Siren
by Chezzles.ze.Great
Summary: GorenOC After The War At Home Eames takes an undercover to get a little space and let her partnership return to full strength. She hires a suitable temporary for Goren, but problems aren't staved off for long.
1. Red Sky at Morning

Another experiment with an original character...

LOCI isn't mine. Don't sue me; I bruise easily.

* * *

Detectives Goren and Eames sat at a cramped diner table together, across from one another, Goren's legs jittering a little with nervous energy. As Alex sat there, dreading her next move, his reaction, and whatever else may come, she ordered a cup of decaf coffee and heard her frazzled brain protest.

"So, I don't want you to get mad about this or anything, Bobby." She remarked casually, flexing her fingers carefully. "Promise me you'll just listen?"

His nervous jittering stopped and he tilted his head, trying to get a read on her. "Sure. I can listen."

"Just don't walk out on me, okay?" She smiled gratefully as a cup of coffee was delivered. She wrapped her cold fingers around the cup and let the steamy warmth soak through her skin, warming her through and through.

Goren's nose scrunched a little and he pulled his elbows off the table, drawing himself up to his full height. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling an awkward disappointment. "I wouldn't, Eames."

Sighing as though not fully convinced yet, she reached inside her coat pocket and pulled out a battered, folded envelope addressed to her. He'd remembered that letter coming to her through their captain, Danny Ross, and he'd remembered Ross congratulating her whole-heartedly.

"After you said they could fire you if they wanted—" Alex seemed to hitch as if preparing for him to interrupt and blast her away for bringing it up, but instead he just sort of slouched, his eyes scanning the table for sugar packets.

"After that, I thought maybe I needed some time by myself, but I need to keep working. There's an elite undercover going on in Colorado right now. Through the narcotics branch, I think." She sighed and accepted the sugar he handed her.

"You applied to get moved out of Major Case?" He asked quietly. "Because of me?"

"Not permanently, Bobby." She reached and touched his hand briefly. "For those few days when I was so upset, I thought we were coming apart. I can feel we're starting to come back together, but it's shaky. I just think the time apart might strengthen something, or make us remember why we have each other. I think we _both _need the space."

Goren ventured a guess in his head if he hadn't seen her frown while she'd been opening the letter she held in her hand now, she wouldn't have felt compelled to tell him about it and might have dismissed it altogether. But now he wasn't so sure. Now she was making it sound like a decision made while irritated, and only bolstered by her fear they weren't back up to snuff in their partnership.

"How long is temporary?" He observed his hands and laced his fingers together neatly.

Alex sighed and put the letter down, tearing open four sugar packets and turning them over into her coffee. As she stirred, she replied, "They aren't sure. Anywhere from six to eighteen months."

Goren gave her an accusing stare.

Eames only gave it back, turning her palms up defensively. "I applied for an undercover, Bobby! Did you think I'd go in there, play Barbie, and bring back the crooks overnight?"

"Who the hell am I going to work with for six months?" He asked, miserable, his voice rising in pitch a little. "_Bishop?_"

"I'll screen. I don't have to leave for two weeks. I have that much time to prepare, say goodbye to family, friends, coworkers." She took a sip of her coffee. "I'll help pick out someone who won't drive you up the wall or give up on you. I'm a good judge of character, remember?"

_Then how come you ended up stuck with me?_ He pondered miserably, realizing she had decided to stick with him and now she realized she needed the time away. She just hadn't been able to hack it, and he didn't quite anticipate her leaving this way.

He had predicted a meltdown. She'd been supportive, trying to help him move on and forget, but the back of his mind was almost full of worries, and soon the spillover was going to distract him at work. It wouldn't filter into his quirks, showing his restless energy or inquisitive mind. Soon he'd be the inept high school boy he'd been as a teenager: restless, quiet, gloomy, and reclusive. Totally and irrevocably socially retarded.

Eames touched his hand once more. "Bobby, I promise I won't let you get stuck with someone who can't handle the pressure, okay? If I have to transfer someone in out of Interpol, or the CIA, or Memphis…"

"Just…you're coming back, right?"

"Assuming I don't get shot, sure." She took another sip, her eyes on his. "I'm not giving up, Goren. You don't scare me."

"I never meant to. You're a person I didn't want to scare." He slouched further. "I didn't want to scare much of anyone, actually."

Eames just shrugged and patted his hand before drawing away. "Barring a miracle, I'll be back before you can start to miss me."

Goren had made it through about fifteen potential files, found something he didn't quite like in each, and weighed each against Eames' infallible judge of character. Unfortunately, to get someone who meshed well with Goren, it meant finding someone who was brilliant, something of a dabbler in both the dominant and submissive sides of the partnership, and willing to aim and fire. As far as Eames knew, Goren had never fired his piece except while at the firing range.

She had to admit, even while she told him there were three distinct possibilities in the files they were looking at, they didn't look good. She wanted to extend her reach, but Ross was quite unhappy with her request.

"You want me to fly someone out of Alaska or something, Alex? So the big goof doesn't throw temper tantrums every time she doesn't understand the fragmented sentences and intimidation?"

She pleaded, and she was allowed access to the files across the country. She checked neighboring special forces, a couple promising CIA agents, and the FBI. Nothing she had the power to convince to join her partner for six months for the pay they got.

She scanned pages and pages on her computer of official files of her fellow officers and detectives. As she started to grow drowsy, she couldn't help but notice the Portland branch had a growing number of officer arrests since 2003. Their solve-rate was growing, nearly matching the MCS solve-rate. Intrigued, she tried to pinpoint who had left or joined the team when the solve-streak had shot up.

The only new recruit in 2003 was a young woman, named Kailah Cairn. She had, before joining up with the police, worked in army intelligence. Eames was getting to the point she was considering calling Goren over to have a look when she found out why. She was fluent in Chinese, Russian, German, and more. She had been used as a translator, mostly, but toward the end, an interrogator.

"Goren!" She finally called. "This one, from Portland…"

He read over her shoulder, and clicked a link at the bottom of the page. The picture that came up was of her "graduating class" of the academy, straight from 1992. She was, he found her name in the caption at the bottom of the paragraph, standing front and center.

"Well?" Eames asked impatiently.

A sudden and heavy apathy settled heavily on Goren's shoulders and he shrugged.

Eames called the Portland, Oregon squad, asked permission to fax some information to the officers there, and sat on her heels for the next few days while interested takers replied. She noted with some annoyance that Officer Cairn had yet to reply.

She called a few days later, asking for Cairn's superior. After a few heated moments of discussing, Eames grudgingly turned the phone over to Ross, and in twenty minutes, Cairn's application, file, and current photo were faxed.

"What'd take?"

"That officer has been trying to get into the FBI since she landed in Portland. I said I had connections and told her MCS looks good on any résumé, especially when you work with Goren."

"She knows timeframe, then?"

"Yes."

Eames carefully combed the girl's file. Cairn had no undercover experience except for a brief stint in Vice, had worked briefly in a security branch around the time of some NFL nonsense, worked NHL hockey security when she lived in Anaheim, and as far as her solve-rate, she seemed to be just as precocious as Eames hoped. She was rebellious to a point, very yielding to another. She had an inane ability to "sweet-talk," her superior had noted on her evaluation, but later on said she had a "sharp, wicked tongue, and a left-hook that could shatter Mike Tyson's jaw."

With just three days before her departure, Eames was looking at her final choice, and the best so far. She had Goren's apathetic approval, and faxed a long thank-you to the Portland P.D., though she mailed a separate letter to Officer Cairn. She was officially MCS Detective Cairn the moment she arrived in New York.

While Eames packed and prepared for her stint in Colorado, Ross arranged for a cheap walk-up near 1PP, a rental car, and several other necessary commodities. Goren almost seemed to sulk as he and Eames finished up a routine investigation just in time, filed their paperwork, and exited for their last drink before Eames' departure.

"Bobby, I think you'll be all right. This girl is up to snuff, even by _my_ standards, and some days I wouldn't wish you on my worst enemy." She smiled encouragingly, and oddly enough, Goren felt reassured.

"You feel it?" She asked suddenly, her smile fading. "You're afraid you broke something and we can't fix it."

"Something personal, Alex." He murmured. "We could work until we ran it right out of us, but when I'm spilling over into the rest of my brain…I need something more than that."

She slid her Colorado phone number across the table. "Call there in a few days. They'll give you my undercover cell. I'll play it off. Ex-boyfriend or something."

"Or you could call _me_ when you have time so I don't—"

"For the first couple of weeks, no matter what a girl-wonder this Officer Cairn is, nobody can help you dam up the spillover. I'll try, but nobody can."

"Just don't want to bother you." He muttered, pocketing her phone number.

"You won't, Bobby." She tossed back the last of her margarita. "C'mon, let's get you home. Oh, would you mind hefting my suitcases into the car for me first, though?"

"Sure," she helped her with her coat and followed her out.

* * *

Goren had expected the temporary to be there bright and early, full of cheer. He had expected her to stick her hand under his nose, demand a healthy handshake, and then clap her hands and demand to get going because she was just so _eager_ to catch the bad guys. 

He was somewhat annoyed by his morning already. Even as he sat restlessly at his desk, waiting for Ross to call him in, introduce him, get it over with, he couldn't help but stare at Eames' number, which he'd tacked to his computer screen already.

He was in the break-room getting more coffee for himself when he heard Logan's voice cheerily ask, "Hey, need a little help?"

By the time he'd poked his head out to see who had arrived or over-burdened himself, all he could see was Wheeler staring after her partner with a shake of her head.

Goren drew nearer, his ears attuned for any sounds.

"No really, thank you." A woman said, sounding exasperated. "I don't need any more help, thanks."

"You su--?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure. Now, do I tip you, or how do I get you to _leave?_"

"All right, all _right._ Just thought I'd extend a little hospitality, jeez!"

"Consider it extended. And let that be a lesson to you New Yorkers; the other coast is just as mean."

Logan left the locker room looking a little amused, but a little puzzled as well. Goren waited, not necessarily eager to look Eames' temporary replacement in the eye, but feeling it necessary.

He stuck his head in. "Good morning, Detective."

The woman, lowering a messenger bag to the floor, nodded blankly, her back to him. She turned, a black eye drawing his eyes away from her extended hand.

"Nice shiner," he commented quietly.

She offered him a brilliant smile. "Nice bags."

He felt the touch of a smirk coming to his face and he offered a tilt of his head. "I didn't get much sleep." They shook hands.

She lifted an eyebrow and gestured at the bullpen. "You're Goren then?"

"Yes." He leaned against the door jamb and watched Cairn unpack a pile of yoga pants, tee-shirts, and gym socks into an empty locker.

"That makes me Kailah. Who was your charming friend?" She tilted her head. "Mr. Helpful?"

"Mike. Logan."

Cairn nodded yet again and turned, her chin thrust forward just a little bit. "So, if you don't mind my asking," she waited for his head to tilt again, this time in the opposite direction, "why did your partner call Portland looking for a temporary?"

"I'm an 'acquired taste.'" He replied dully, sizing this woman up.

Laughing lightly, Cairn turned and deposited a pile of tea bags, lozenges, and vitamin C tablets into her locker. She shut the door and crumpled her duffel bag before tucking it into the front pocket of her suitcase. She stood up straight and placed her hands on her hips.

"Why were you willing to move to New York City for six months?" He asked.

"I don't know." She smiled and shrugged, rolling back the sleeves on her top so they were just below her elbows. "Sounded like an adventure to me."

"We'll probably get our first call tomorrow." He felt, and he hated himself for coming out of his stupor _now_, almost excited to see her in action.

"And what am I going to learn my first day, Sir?" She straightened, almost mocking him for treating her like a rookie, though she knew he had every right to.

"Detective Cairn!" Captain Ross interrupted before Goren could reply. "I just heard Logan saying he met the new recruit. How was your flight?"

She allowed herself to relax a little and shook the captain's hand, smiling. "Decent, thanks. Detective Goren here just told me we probably won't see a call until tomorrow, so if I could catch up on my jet-lag, I think I'd be useful that way."

"Your rental car should arrive any minute now, and your apartment is furnished and ready to go. Eames made sure of it before she boarded her flight."

"Great." Cairn smiled again, but Goren saw traces of relief and exhaustion finally etching themselves there.

Goren sighed, counting the day as a waste already, and nodded gently. "See you tomorrow, Cairn."

"Bobby, you'll need her cell phone number. Just stop by my office for it. I'll get her the NYPD issue phone…" Ross turned and disappeared for a moment. Goren settled back against the door jamb, his arms folded.

"Bobby?" Cairn had lifted her eyebrow again.

"An acquired taste, mind you." He lifted his eyebrow in return. "Kailah."

She flashed him another brilliant, toothy smile. "If I were over six feet and my name were Tiffany—"

"Bobby is not the equivalent to Tiffany."

"It is on you." She touched her side gently. "Bobby was my high school sweetheart. You are not a Bobby."

Ross returned. "Detective—"

"Please call me Kailah." She accepted the phone with a polite smile. "I'm still an officer when I go home after all this. I'm not used to answering to 'Detective.'"

"Fine with me." Ross dipped his head toward Goren. "You can call it a day too, Bobby."

"You'll call me if we get a case?" He lifted his eyebrows.

"You have no paperwork, and Logan and Wheeler are here. Let your partner catch up on New York time." He put his hands in his pockets. "You have friends you could visit, right?"

He blinked, deciding getting agitated probably wouldn't do much other than alert his new partner something was seriously off-kilter. So he just smiled. "I have no friends."

"Well, I'm sure National Geographic has something interesting on." Ross turned and tossed a "See you both tomorrow!" over his shoulder.


	2. Inhumane

_Author's Note: _Thanks for all the positive reviews, guys! I know it may be hard for some of you, but I just don't writer B/A stuff, though I love reading it...if ye look for B/A here, ye shall be sorely disappointed. I'm examining the reality of the situation: sometimes friends have the hardest time making up after a fight or injustice. The harder you fight for what's right, the stronger the friendship and respect. They owe each other no less than to have it all out.

* * *

Kailah made every attempt the next morning to cover her black eye with make-up. She decided a light shadow under her eye would have to suffice and threw her clothes on, brushed her hair, and belted her gun, badge, and handcuffs all together. As she threw on a coat and made her way to the door, she picked up her messenger bag for good measure.

At the bullpen, she found her new partner's desk tidily arranged as though he'd come in already, caught up on his paperwork, and reorganized. The coffee in front of his pile of sticky-notes was still steaming and Kailah drowsily watched the flow of people, criminal and not, ebb over the next few minutes.

A shadow loomed over her and she cast the person a wary stare. Goren extended a hand with a steaming mug of coffee.

"Too early for you?" He teased.

Taking the coffee and sitting on the edge of his desk, she just grunted and took a sip of the hot, steaming adrenaline. As the warmth hit the pit of her stomach, her voice took a crack and pitched deeper. "I'm not a morning person."

Goren sat at his usual place and tilted his head. "Is it too early for a crime scene then? Ross was just briefing me on a new scene that arrived about an hour ago. CSU is almost done collecting fibers and all that. We're going to go see if it's worth MCS time."

"Worth time?" Kailah asked stupidly.

"We don't pick up every homicide, robbery, and rape. Just the high-profile, and even the rapes get bumped to SVU most of the time." Goren stood and shrugged on his own coat. "This is an author's regular limo driver. They think it was an attempt on the author, but they caught the driver instead."

"You're curious." Kailah commented darkly and stood up straighter. "What's procedure going to be?"

"Just do your thing." Goren encouraged with a wry smile. "Can't be anything I haven't seen, and if it is, I'll be tempted to try it."

"Who drives?"

"I don't have a car today." He gave her charming smile. "Mind if you take the wheel?"

Kailah put her messenger bag back on her shoulder and wrapped her fingers snugly around her steaming coffee mug. "You and I seem to be getting along all right, Goren."

"We'll see." He replied gently and allowed her to walk into the elevator before him as he held the door firmly. As she punched the lobby button, Goren wrinkled his nose and began to drum his fingers on his leather binder.

"Diary?"

"Notes on the case." He tapped his thumb against the side. "From the sound of it, we're looking at overkill. Rage killing perhaps."

"Too much to be mistaken identity." Kailah's lower lip suddenly stuck out. "We'll figure out the motive and the crime and then hand it off to Homicide with a big freakin' bow on it. I love it."

"Or we link it back to the author, snag the lead, track the perp down, and settle in for paperwork by Thursday." Goren watched as the elevator stopped at the ground floor and the doors opened.

She took a series of confident strides out of the elevator, wrestled with her bag for her keys, and then allowed Goren to hold the door of the building open for her while she tried to identify the parking level she had settled on.

At the crime scene, Goren went straight to the body of fifty-something limousine driver, Cal Traven, who had settled with his face resting on the backs of his knuckles, blood trailing down his wrists, chin, and forearms miserably. If he weren't dead, he would have been one sorry looking survivor.

"Two teeth in the steering wheel." Someone mentioned quietly to Goren. "Looks like they beat his head into the wheel, then loaded up six in his chest."

"Any idea what caliber?" He heard Kailah ask somewhere behind him.

"Not a clue. They all mushroomed in his chest. None came out the back. Maximum damage inside—lots of blood."

Kailah's face appeared beside the dead man's, her upper body floating around the open door of the passenger's side. "Sounds like he shot him from farther away after beating him all to hell from up close." She wrinkled her nose and covered her face. "And _someone_ likes a good mouthful of chewing tobacco. Sick!"

Goren blinked, observing Kailah's distressed face, and then reached, pulling the dead man's cheek up to check his gums. He reassessed the man's torn knuckles and frowned.

"He fought back with the arm facing the side his attack was on." Kailah forestalled him.

"If you were about to punch me, and I was fighting for my life, hard enough to get my knuckles torn out at the joint…" He gestured. "I'd go for leverage, not for proximity. You want to get momentum."

"So the attacker came from the right?" She pulled away. "Got into the car?"

"He was shot from the left, but attacked from the right." Goren's eyes met hers carefully.

"Check the radius for vomit, please!" Kailah turned and shouted.

Goren continued to poke his way around, and started to pat the victim's pockets. "Shoes?"

"German. Rieker, it looks like? Too thin for anything of value, unless it's in his socks…" Kailah bent, pulled the elastic out on his socks. "No money."

"Well, I'm sure he didn't come out here broke. He should be tipped, as a driver." Goren sighed and turned, looking all over the door of the limo. "Beaten, shot, then robbed?"

Kailah found a compartment on the passenger side door, showed him the empty space inside. She pointed to some rogue blood drops on the inside of the latch and the door. "Beaten, robbed, then shot."

An officer approached cautiously. "Detectives? The ME says she's got a triple-homicide in the two-seven she's addressing first. This one is off limits until she gets here."

Blinking uneasily, Goren stood up and sighed, shrugging. "Take all the pictures you can. Did anyone check the perimeter?"

"For?"

"Vomit!" Kailah supplied exuberantly. She started pacing around where she saw footprints the CSUs had been photographing and gradually widened her circle. She had very little credibility in New York, he understood why she wasn't standing around throwing her weight and asking all the tough questions. But, rather than helping them by keeping her distance, Goren was sure this was going to bite them in the ass. He did _not_ have a good reputation for questioning fellow officers. He got irritated, short…and the crime scene was always full of more reliable evidence.

"Send an evidence bag my way, Tiffany!" Kailah suddenly called, and Goren turned, grimacing. "I found someone's nachos and beer!"

Watching from beyond the crime scene tape, several observers and photographers sent uncertain looks to Goren, who, after a moment of wondering to himself why the woman had to be so efficient (making it impossible to hate her with merit so far). Resigned, he shook out an evidence bag and delivered it to her, watching as she helped herself to a CSU belt, took out a scraper, and transferred a majority of the vomit into the bag and sealed it. She shook the bag playfully at him while he stood, waiting.

"If no DNA, then certainly an analysis where we can find our guy."

"Why'd you look for vomit?" Goren finally asked. "He beat the crap out of our guy. He wasn't queasy."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Sometimes it's part of your job, you even choose for it to happen. I'm in the line of duty every day, right? I've had to shoot one guy to save my last partner, and I don't remember much else after my back-up yelled he was dead. Everyone was saved, but the blood and the smell, too much."

Goren opened his mouth to object.

"Besides, he could have beat him up, thrown up, robbed him, and then shot him."

"Interesting timeline." He muttered and gestured to the car. "We'll start asking around for Traven's family, friends."

* * *

Goren splashed cold water on his face as he hunched over the sink in the men's room. The more he stood there, gaining ground for his feet to stand on, the more it seemed to shift beneath him and sink away. It all felt very surreal, he noticed, to be _functioning_ without Eames there. But he was, despite his estimations, doing reasonably well. 

He was biding his time, waiting for the abandonment to set in, to scare him, to shock him into remembering the sacrifices and gifts. While he understood Eames making a rash decision, he did not quite understand how she followed through with it. Between the crime scene and the squad-room, he'd become lost in his own thoughts, and for the first time in a long time, they weren't about the case, or any of his other daily concerns.

He didn't have Bishop. Cairn at least followed his train of thought, but he hadn't derailed yet, and she didn't seem too interested in figuring him out. She seemed interested in doing her job. He wondered when she'd notice keeping her partner from the brink of insanity was going to be the larger part of her job. Then again, it wasn't a duty that was easily assigned to some replacement.

He stood hunched over the sink in the men's room, face still dripping, and glanced up at his reflection. He expected a furious but tamed beast to glare back at him, wondering why he hadn't put up more of a fight when Eames had announced her leave. Instead he saw a resignation, and a spark of horror shot through his gut.

* * *

Kailah took on the task of informing the victim's family. While she called nearly half a dozen numbers looking for someone living in-state to identify the body, Goren combed through crime-scene photos and eventually sort of gave up, sitting across a computer screen blaring information about the limo company Traven had worked for.

"Well?" Ross asked as he breezed by.

"Robbery was partly a motive, so the driver was the target. It was a rage-killing of some kind though." Goren glanced up at Kailah, who was apologizing into the phone while a voice sobbed out the other end. "Vic was beaten severely, robbed, and then shot six times in the chest."

"Talk about overkill. What angle are we looking at?"

"Jealous somebody who wouldn't mind having a little extra cash, too. At the very least his wife could have hired out their best friend. Someone who was impersonal but personal. He did it up-close, he knew the victim, but he most definitely didn't do it for himself."

Ross glanced at Kailah's bowed blonde head. "And her?"

"We're all right." Goren replied dismissively. "We work together fine. We'll be all right."

"You sure? Have you talked to Eames lately?"

"Haven't called her, and I don't need to check in." He felt himself getting a little agitated, and he heard Kailah hang up her phone, casting uncertain looks on himself and Ross.

"You should call. She worries, you know."

"I know she worries. I worry, too." He snapped and glanced furtively at Kailah, who had a glazed look of indifference stamped on her face. He was grateful she didn't appear curious or piqued.

"All right, all right!" Ross waved his hands a little, indicating everyone should calm down. "I'll check back in later."

Kailah glanced at all the eyes from the other teams brushing over them. It had never turned into a full-on stare, but she wondered why they were being checked on. She felt her partner shrinking under the touch-and-go gazes of his coworkers and reached her foot under the desk, jabbing him in the ankle.

He looked up, his eyes daring her to ask him why he was damaged goods.

"Tell me they're all jealous."

"I wish I could, Kailah." He smiled very carefully. "They just wonder who the new girl is, and how long she'll last."

"Last here, or with you?"

He paused, considering playing it all down, and then shrugged. "I don't have a good track record."

"But your partner…"

"I don't want to talk about it here, okay?" He looked up at her plaintively. "The talk around the water cooler is bad. Worse than any office building."

Shrugging carefully, Kailah allowed her green eyes to fall away from Goren's distracted façade and concentrated on her own work. As she dialed another out-of-state number to check if the family would come identify the body, she started to hum "Do You Want to Know A Secret?"

Goren politely ignored her a few moments, then threw his pen at her and took her coffee cup and his to refill.

* * *

The first phone call Eames received in Denver arrived at two in the morning her time. She groaned and walked over to her cheap undercover cell phone with the chipped face-cover, yawned sleepily, and pushed the receive button. 

"Yeah hello?" She sat heavily on the end of her bed.

There was a shy pause, and then, "It's late. Or early."

"You'd think a guy like you would know what time it is, Goren." Eames sprawled backward on the bed and touched her hair, sighing.

"I don't know what time it is _here._" He protested softly. "I couldn't sleep, and I figured I wouldn't be interrupting your work if I called now."

Sighing again, Eames smiled carefully. "You figured right."

He allowed another shy pause. "How are you?"

"Pretty good. Things are sailing smoothly so far, and I'm proud to report I have been assimilated quite flawlessly into the niche we were looking at. A couple months to work my way up the ladder and I'll get the dirt, make the arrests, and get out."

Goren, sitting with his elbows on his knees in his living room, ran his fingers over his hair and rested them on the back of his neck. "Good."

Eames' eyes flicked open. "How is Detective Cairn?"

Goren blinked.

"Is she driving you crazy, or vice versa?"

Goren winced a little and shrugged. Eames could almost hear this uncertain body language, and she couldn't help but smile. "I don't know yet."

Eames waited a moment, and then sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," he wiped his hand over his mouth. "I hope we'll be okay. When you come back."

"I know we'll be okay. That's why I did this." She sighed again. "But you're alone. You know, it was easier to tell you I was leaving to your face?"

"It was easier to pretend I didn't care when I had you right in front of me." He replied softly.

"People are stupid." She replied tiredly. "How's your mom?"

"Fine," he answered shortly and sprawled backward onto his bed. "Why did you sign up?"

"For the undercover?" Eames sighed heavily. "Christ, Bobby…"

"Why exactly?" He pressed. "I know I made us start coming apart, but you never give up on—"

"Don't you _dare_ assume I'm giving up on you." She interrupted quickly. "I needed to start looking out for myself, Bobby." Her voice had come out quickly, as if blurted, and she sighed again. "You need someone _there_ for you. You need so much, and you still shut me out. I just…I guess you could say I was thinking I would be punishing you, but I didn't think it deliberately. I just needed away."

"Look how much we damage ourselves," he muttered and covered his eyes.

"I'll take the blame for leaving, but I haven't heard your take any of your share." She breathed heavily. "How am I supposed to be there for you when I get shoved away?"

"I never asked for your help!"

"Bullshit! You think moping around and having yourself a grand old time being the unluckiest bastard on earth isn't begging for someone's attention?"

He was quiet.

"I'm sorry." Alex added, the volume of her voice gone. "You know I didn't mean it."

"So I asked." He continued in a tight voice. "And I pushed you away. And I did what people do when they're hurt."

"Instead of pushing, I ran." She supplied.

"From me."

"Don't flatter yourself." She snapped. "You'll be fine. Get pissed at me, throw something. Have your panic-attack but get to work, for God's sake, Goren."

He allowed another long pause and then murmured, "We have issues."

"To be resolved another day."

"Eames—"

"I'll talk to you later, Goren." She hung up.

Without closing his eyes, he snapped the phone shut and hurled it at the wall. He heard the crack and whine of a breaking electrical device, and turned over on his side, the horrible resignation back. It was more frightening than the possible disintegration of his partnership with Eames. He was hardly putting up a fight. He supposed it was the logical part of him accepting all the blame. And while it all fell apart, he was expected to report to work just as always, sit across from Eames' empty desk where a blonde, work-minded head would wait and discuss fingerprints with him. The human element almost gone.

He had given her no reason to believe he wanted human anything from her, however. He had no desire to replace Eames. And yet he had extended no olive branch. There was nothing for her to believe was there, so she worked. She jabbed at him, eliciting a rare laugh or smile, and then went back to taking fingerprints and letting him ramble on about his precious profile.

Staring at his broken phone, Goren winced.


	3. Ebb

_Author's Note:_ Again, I can't thank you enough for the great reviews. I'm hoping everyone takes the wild ride with Goren, Eames, and the new detective. It won't be smooth sailing, but eventually everything (including the title) will make sense.

Also, Vincent D'Onofrio's wife's name was Carin. Coincidence, I promise.

* * *

Kailah arrived at One Police Plaza with her car keys clenched in her teeth. Her omnipresent messenger bag was filled to the brim with files and winter-wear for the rest of the day, but both arms were also laden with creature-comforts it seemed. She had brought, of all things Goren had seen the other detectives bring, a can of gourmet coffee and a carton of French vanilla creamer.

She dropped her things at her desk and groaned, dropping a tiny black bag in the middle of her desk. When he glanced up, he noticed she hadn't applied any makeup to her black eye.

"How'd you get it?" He asked suddenly.

Kailah touched the battle scar and smiled sadly. "We had to arrest a mother and father of two little boys. My partner was taking them outside to handcuff them while I dealt with child services, and when the younger of the two wouldn't cooperate, I picked him up to carry him. He popped me in the face with the back of his head."

Pursing his lips just a little, Goren allowed his eyes to fall from Kailah's and drift over her work attire. As usual, she wore a police, office-oriented sort of grayscale suit with a collared blouse beneath. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose, messy ponytail with the wavy ends sprayed in every direction. With her hair pulled back, it made her face look sort of heart-shaped. The black eye only seemed to play up the freckles and pale skin, and he found himself picturing her family large and Irish—most likely very Catholic.

"My partner said you worked as an army translator." He added as she started unpacking the files she'd taken home, her "homework" as she usually called it.

"A couple years. I don't do much of that anymore. I was in army intelligence because I needed something to do after getting my majors in foreign language." She straightened herself out at her desk. "Worst years of my life, barking out answers to my superiors' commands and saluting men in fatigues."

"You didn't like the work?"

"I had a sneaking suspicion my male cohorts were getting the good jobs while I sat at the homestead, baking up warm apple pies to send home in tidy little reports. I was Suzie Homemaker of the translation branch, ready for fun on Saturday night, but otherwise busy making everything fine and dandy for the big guys."

Goren couldn't help but grin, and put his pen down to stretch his hand. He stretched his shoulders while he was at it, and ran his palm across his scratchy cheek, feeling another sleepless night adding up.

"Another night with no sleep?" She asked quietly, heaping her files in front of her.

"I guess." He reached for his pen, and, despite his usual attempts to avoid talking about himself, he added, "I called my partner."

Kailah nodded a little and then seized her coffee can and creamer. "No more police-issued dirt labeled as coffee. Where might I find this coffee-maker, by the way?"

He pointed at the break-room where Eileen was filling her cup and chatting with Logan, who had appeared early for some reason. She almost stood up, and then looked at her files contemplatively.

"You want me to go with you?" Goren offered in a teasing voice. "Protect you from Mr. Helpful?"

"For some reason, Tiff, I don't think he perceives you as a threat." She smiled sweetly.

Something Eileen said came back to Goren as Kailah stood up and gathered her coffee-making materials. She, while going long stretches without saying anything to Goren or much of anyone in the bullpen, was on top of all the gossip. He usually didn't say much to her outside of a greeting, but the third or fourth day into the case, she had been waiting for him, perched on his desk.

_"I have news." She said in a silky voice, her legs crossed politely._

_"Yeah, what now? It must be about Cairn, or you wouldn't have that gloat on your face." He pulled his chair out and sat heavily, staring at Eileen's folded hands._

_"Detective Logan has something of a crush on your new partner." Eileen replied in a controlled voice, though her amusement seemed endless. "Particularly her ass."_

_Goren couldn't hide the look of incredulity and surprise. "After what she said to him the first day?"_

_"I overheard him talking to Jensen from the two-seven on his phone as he was getting on the elevator. I called him a chauvinist, but I think he enjoyed it." Eileen sat up as Kailah entered and winked at Goren. "I said nothing."_

Before Kailah made it into the break room, Goren followed, holding a couple of dirty coffee cups. He made his way silently to the sink in the corner and scrubbed them out, listening to the keen silence between Eileen, who seemed highly amused, Logan, who for once had nothing to say, and Kailah, who seemed oblivious as she emptied the grounds and rancid coffee from the machine and pot.

After a couple of nearly silent minutes, Eileen excused herself to answer a ringing phone and Logan reluctantly went back to his desk, nodding curtly at Goren as he dried the coffee cups. He placed both cups next to Kailah and watched her turn.

"What's the plan for today?" She asked, tapping her foot quietly on the tile floor.

"We start canvassing the restaurants we found to be consistent with the vomit you found on the scene." He replied quietly. "Sushi-bars, mostly. We have our work cut out for us."

"I'll finally get to see a little bit of this city." She sighed and he heard, to his amusement, her start humming lightly under her breath.

He leaned against the door jamb. "Were you raised on music?"

She nodded, distracted almost, and then replied mechanically, "My father was a musician by trade. He taught me a lot." She looked at him suddenly. "I've been meaning to ask you if it's all right I bring a CD player or something."

"To listen to in the squad room?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Just early, before everybody else gets in. Like now." She gestured at the majority of empty desks behind him. "I work better with music."

He felt the look of uncertainty pass over him, and he started to shrug when Kailah's coffee started to pour into the pot and he caught a whiff of the finished product.

"That's Starbucks brand coffee?"

"But of course."

"You can do whatever you want as long as I get the first cup of that."

When Kailah returned to the desk with two hot cups of gourmet coffee, Goren heard her rustle through her messenger bag. She reappeared with a small book of CDs. After a slight pause, she selected a plain silver CD and popped it into the drive. She finagled the computer so it played the music quietly, just barely alerting Goren it was even there.

"Is that 4 Non Blondes?" He asked dumbly.

"Sometimes I feel like listening to Linda Perry." She replied and pointed to one of her files. "The owner of Traven's limo company tried to fire him twice prior to the incident." She looked up at him plaintively. "How did we miss that?"

"I don't know. Write down the address; we'll go and ask him what's going on."

Kailah smirked, appreciating his remark in regards to her music. The current track was "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes, and the lead singer had just begun to scream, "What's going on?"

On the way to the limo company, Kailah observed Goren quietly before asking, "How do we do this?"

"I'll ask a few, you ask a few. Whoever he takes to, that one goes for the throat." He shifted papers around in his leather portfolio. "They usually don't take to me."

"You keep saying those ominous things like they mean something." Kailah replied quietly. "You talk as if you're broken."

He felt his lip button shut and he shrugged helplessly. Kailah allowed the question to go unanswered, more concerned with the issue at hand.

At the limo service, Goren allowed Kailah to take the lead and get them into the front office. He was predicting something of a spitfire with which to contend, and he usually played a bumbling cop routine to ease the enemy into a state of relaxation.

The limo service, Easy Ride, was chaired by a middle-aged woman named Carmen Marks. Her silvering hair was long, almost to her waist, and tied back loosely at the base of her neck. She glanced up briefly when Goren and Kailah were let inside, and she gestured at two folding chairs across from her card-table of a desk. Both were heaped with papers.

"Just put 'em on the floor; have a seat, please."

"We only have a few questions," Kailah insisted calmly. "As you heard, Cal Traven was murdered a week ago."

"Yeah, but I had no trouble filling his spot. I was waiting to have his sorry ass on retirement…" She drew her eyes out of her paperwork at last and smiled crookedly. "When do I get the car back?"

"When we have all the evidence we need from it." Kailah answered in her same soft tone. "You say you were eager to have him gone, why is that?"

"He had two DUIs he never told me about. I noticed he was ordering double the liquor for the fridge in the back of his limo and started to lay down the blade. When I tried to fire him, he and his lawyer-bitch girlfriend were all up-in-arms about my lousy evidence." Marks' eyes narrowed. "He was a good driver, but I could never trust him. He was stealing from me."

Goren drew himself out of her bookshelf, which was littered with children's books and Harry Potter novels. "Do you have grandchildren, Mrs. Marks?"

"Twelve of them, actually." She smiled tiredly.

Kailah carefully perched on the end of one of the folding chairs and attempted not to disturb the papers. "Is there anyone who might want to hurt Cal? Anyone you can think of?"

With business back at hand, Marks' smile faded. "No, he never had any real complaints against him. But his girlfriend, the lawyer one I told you about? She was married."

Goren's eyebrows lifted. Kailah reached back and tapped his elbow. "Do you have a card, Tiff?"

He reached mechanically and extended his hand, the card held between two fingers by the corner. Marks took the card, an amused smile on her face. She winked. "Come back any time, detectives."

As soon as they exited the building, Kailah turned around excitedly and thumped Goren in the chest. "Well?"

"Either the girlfriend or the husband know _something._" He conceded. "But—"

"But who else would vomit on a crime scene? Someone sick with grief, that's who! Either the scorned husband or the panicking lover…"

"We don't have any physical evidence yet. They're still processing a lot of what's in the car, and we haven't canvassed the sushi—"

"Are you the one who's always moving a mile-a-minute, or am I just eager?" She frowned at him as if he had spoiled her party. "Come on, what might this mean for the case?"

He sighed and felt his hands lift. They preceded his rant for a few seconds, his fingers groping and clawing as if to find the words trapped in his mouth.

"We know by the severity of the beating and the shooting we're dealing with overkill—someone who was emotionally tied to the victim. This is supported by the vomit near the crime scene as well as the location of the body where it'd be found." He inhaled. "The robbery may have been a false lead to throw us off the trail, but someone who's familiar with Traven may have realized he made a pretty penny in tips every night. Or…we're looking at two killers." He inhaled again, his hands still clawing wildly. "If this girlfriend started to get sloppy and his presence threatened a scandal in her marriage, she may have convinced her husband to help her kill…a stalker, say. Sh-she might have staged a majority of the scene to look like one shooter and robbery."

Kailah nodded furiously, a slight look of confusion barely hidden, but finally she jerked her keys out of her pocket. "What evidence do we need to show up with a search warrant?"

"The woman's name…a fingerprint, something to connect her to the victim and the scene." He frowned. "There were no prints in the car not belonging to our victim. At least not in the driver's area."

"Well, let's find this girl and pay her a visit." Kailah smiled and looked at her watch. "Looks about lunch-time to me, partner. What say you buy me some sushi?"

* * *

Goren awoke around three in the morning. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments, biting back a curse, and as he rolled over to stare at time slipping away from him on the glowing face of his old-fashioned alarm clock, his new cell phone started to ring. Reaching blindly, he closed his fingers on the vibrating mess of plastic and brought it to his ear.

"Goren."

"Mr. Goren—"

He sat upright. "What's wrong?" He only knew one person who called him "Mr. Goren."

"We need permission to do a surgery. It appears a tumor has metastasized on your mother's esophagus. It's still small, yet, but we need some paperwork signed to remove it. She's not being cooperative—"

"I'll be there in an hour." He replied in a breathy, small voice. "I just need an hour."

"She'll be all right, Mr. Goren. It could wait until tomorrow, she…she's sedated right now. We only found the results about two hours ago…"

"I know, I said this was probably the best time to contact me. Thanks for calling." He hung up without another word and drew his breath in slowly and to capacity. He waited as if expecting Ross to call and tell him he had to put everything on back burner. But he and Kailah had struck out with the first half of their sushi-bar crusades. The rest was tomorrow with the promise she would buy lunch. Wincing, he ran a hand over his bristly cheek and stood up to dress for work.

As he reflected on it, the doctor hadn't sounded panicked or urgent when he called. Goren was accustomed to hearing he could "deal with it on Sunday" when he visited, but he could detect his mother's growing restlessness, and though changes in her routine were dangerous, she always seemed a little relieved to see him, at least at first.

As he parked outside the hospital and made his way to his mother's floor, he felt the familiar eyes of the night staff on him. Nurses smiled prettily and muttered half-hearted greetings. He ignored them, his hands clenching and unclenching as they swung by his sides. Wearily he admitted he was lucky someone didn't approach him to force a well-wishing barrage on him. His knuckles were itching to knock out some bleach-white teeth.

His mother's doctor entered the hallways just before he came to his mother's room and winced. It as the most fitting reaction Goren had seen so far.

"Well?" He asked, holding his palms out. "How bad, where do I sign?"

"I want you to be aware of the costs. The chemotherapy has to be increased after the surgery. We thought it was under control, but if it's spreading—"

"I understand. Where do I sign?" He felt his teeth starting to glue shut.

Sighing, the man slipped behind the nurse's station and fished out an insurance and consent form. Taking a pen from his breast pocket, Goren sat down and started filling out the paper on the clipboard, his breathing uneven.

"She's sleeping now." The doctor spoke softly, watching Goren twist in his seat. "She's going to be fine tonight. And tomorrow. Nothing—"

"Save it." He huffed and pushed the clipboard against the man's chest and stood. Collecting the papers and necessary clearances, he scurried to a marker-board where nighttime surgeries were listed. At four AM, Frances Goren was slated for a malignant tumor removal.

Goren watched as the doctor sped off to prepare for surgery and visit his other patients. The moment he was gone, Goren stole into his mother's room. They hadn't bothered, he noticed with a slight scowl, to shut off the lights. If there was one thing she appreciated at the hospital, they let her have the lights off to sleep, something that was not tolerated at the psychiatric hospital.

He sat quietly beside her as if he could wake her and reached, touching her wrist. She had red marks and he bit his lip, knowing they had restrained her to sedate her. Shaking his head slowly, he patted the back of her hand and stood, glancing at his watch. An uneasy something crept over the back of his neck and elicited a small shudder from him. Casting one last glance over his shoulder, he exited the room and then the hospital, not knowing anywhere else to go but work.

Kailah had, after their disappointing strike-out wandering from sushi-bar to sushi-bar, compiled a brief description of the woman in question from Carmen Marks. As Goren picked through the features and tried to form a mental picture, he noticed Kailah had left her CD book behind.

He pursed his lips, noticing the utter silence of the bullpen when not a soul moved inside. The lights were always on, and there was always somebody working downstairs, but "after hours" there seemed to be no one in sight. Even those pulling all-nighters drew away from the confines of the eleventh floor and went to a diner to spread their crime scene photos among the midnight meatloaf special.

After a while, he had to force his brain to focus on the lawyer he was looking for. She was tall, the woman had said. Dark, bone-straight hair, medium-length. She had dark eyes to match, and she wore small square-framed glasses. She seemed to be partly Hispanic, as Marks had described her, and as Goren made notes to himself, trying to draw a map of where they were more likely to find her, his phone rang.

To him, the sound was urgent and obtrusive. Without glancing at the caller, he flicked it open and lifted it to his ear. "Goren."

"I'm watching the early-early news." It was Kailah's deep morning-voice greeting him. "There's a witchy woman blabbing about her client. The client is an eleven-year-old girl who had her library book taken away after another parent complained the content was obscene."

"Yeah?" Goren sat up.

"Trisha Barton."

"Trisha Barton…" He started typing in the police database and nodded firmly. "Passed her BAR exam in 2002."

"Bingo. Dark hair, dark eyes, Buddy Holly glasses…something's bothering her. She looks distracted. This is playback of a couple days ago when the media took notice of the children's book scandal."

"She's taking up the freedom of speech fight?"

"One Newbery Medal and the word 'scrotum' are making Lucky's higher power not so important." Kailah seemed to grin. "Didn't you read about it?"

He nodded and shrugged a little. "In passing. So she's representing a child who wants to have the book kept on the shelf?"

"Yeah. All over TV, I tell you. She plugs her practice, very subtly." Kailah seemed to grin to herself. "She likes representing the people, she says. From where people happen to be. Her home-office is located in Manhattan."

"Real accessible." Goren smiled and rubbed his face, looking at the keyboard on his desk. "You were awake why?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

He bit his lip silently.

"You're at the office, aren't you?" Kailah sounded reprimanding and somehow amused. "You're gonna kill yourself if you don't ease up, Tiff."

"I didn't feel like going home." He replied softly and, realizing his error, hastened to bid his adieu. "I'll see you in the morning, Cairn."

"Hey, don't—"

He hung up quickly, dropping the phone onto the desk like a hot potato. Fuming silently for a moment, he waited, and then started for the file room where he could find the exact nature of Trisha Barton's legal record.

After a few minutes bent over the filing cabinet, fishing out the various pro bono and small-claims cases Barton had taken, Goren sat on the cold, concrete floor of the filing storage room and groaned gently. The privacy and stifling silence were a contrasting blessing and curse. He was just as alone in the bullpen, but at least out there the fluorescent lights buzzed happily above him. In here, the plain bulb above him was silent. He glanced at it and then angled the files so he could read them from his position in the corner.

He remained in the corner for a period of time—he wasn't quite sure how long it was. Nothing in her work record seemed to give or take any evidence. She took up a lot of constitutional battles, Goren began to notice. She liked fighting for the little guy's rights, and though she was good at her job, she picked fights Goren personally considered already one-sided.

After a lengthy sigh, he stood to return the files to the cabinet and wander back out to his desk and pick through his notes again. As he pushed the filing drawer back into place, he heard the faint echoes of David Bowie.

At her desk, hunched over and working, Kailah sat. She was still in her sweats and tee-shirt; her hair was in a pair of very half-hearted, loose pigtails. She glanced up at him as he came around the corner, his eyes squinted accusingly.

"Morning, sunshine." She ground out in a gruff morning voice. "What did you find?"

"Nothing to connect her to Traven."

"Unfortunate." Kailah turned the monitor on her computer so he could see a news article from years ago. "Remember the Brenda O'Dowd case?"

"No, do you?"

Kailah made a face. "No, but I don't live here, pretty-boy."

He sat across from her with a frown. "Pretty-boy?"

"Focus, please." She pointed to the screen triumphantly. "Her husband, prior to a nasty divorce, had her committed to a psychiatric hospital. He claimed she was delusional, having hallucinations. She was admitted after qualifying for eight of twelve given hospital markers for schizophrenia—"

Goren couldn't prevent a twinge of surprise—and, quite possibly, pain—from going across his face.

"You all right?" She tilted her head, and then jabbed the screen again, continuing to paraphrase. "Husband had a different last name than Ms. O'Dowd. Traven."

And, as they often did when the vital piece to the puzzle came out of nowhere, the restless, uneasy feeling in Goren's gut ceased. Everything fit into place.

He leapt up and began to pace. "Barton has a social injustice hot-button, and she can't stand she's been sleeping with the…well, she convinces her husband to kill what they consider to be evil, and…" His arms waved pathetically, and though there was blank confusion on Kailah's face, there was an endless ocean of patience and curiosity.

"You following me?" He finally begged.

"Almost, almost!"

"C'mon, Kailah!" He reached up and tangled his fingers in his hair. "Her lover is the perpetrator of one of the only cases she ever lost in court! She finds out because his employer is asking around for representation, and when she goes in to defend her boyfriend, finds out who he really is. Now she's got a neat way out for—"

"A neat way out of her affair and her disgust. She can kill him and tell herself she was just using sex to lure him in for the kill?" Kailah stood up, suddenly meekly aware of her sweatpants and tee-shirt. "We don't have any physical evidence. We'll need to pay a voluntary visit to Mrs. Barton. Hopefully we find something there."

He glanced at the clock. It was just after six, and his palms were itchy. "How about nine o' clock?"

"Whenever is fine with me, Tiff. I just need to change."

It was a two-door garage outside the Barton residence in Manhattan, somehow crammed between apartment buildings, but both doors were open, and only one Mercedes was inside. Goren made note of this and glanced at Kailah, who had just set a grim look on her face.

They knocked on the front door and waited politely before Kailah lifted her hand to knock again. The door jerked open and a small girl, no more than five years old, stared up at them suspiciously.

Goren bent and touched the end of her nose briefly. "Is your mom home, Squirt?"

"In her office," the little girl replied in an uncertain voice.

"We're cops." Goren extended his hand with his badge. "My name is Bobby."

The little girl took the badge, still suspicious. "An' her?"

"I'm a cop, too." Kailah squatted carefully in her knee-length skirt and extended her badge. "My name is Kailah."

"Did you come to find my daddy?"

"Did he leave yesterday?" Goren tilted his head to the side.

"Yeah," she sighed and clutched the badges to her chest.

"Can we talk to your mom, then?" Goren smiled shyly at the little girl.

Casting one last suspicious glance at the two of them, the dark-haired girl turned on her heel and ran ahead of them. As she rounded the plush corner of the entryway, she cried, "Mommy, there are some police-people here to find Daddy!"

Kailah made a slight face at Goren as she stood and smoothed her skirt. "I hate it when there's kids involved. Dad flees, Mom has to be arrested. She gets stuck with an aunt out in Albany or worse."

"Are you a people-person? I like to poke around a little if I can."

"Little girl has paint on her fingers." Kailah half-whispered as Mrs. Barton approached. "Take her to wash her hands."

Goren nodded a little and then spotted the little girl. He smiled and waved subtly and the girl shot back a delighted grin, still holding his and Kailah's badges tightly. She gestured, and after a moment's hesitation, he excused himself from Kailah's presence and allowed the young girl to pull him into the kitchen where she was making an absolute mess of the table.

"I'm sorry about her," Mrs. Barton called in a tired voice. "She's probably making a mess in there."

Kailah smiled warmly. "She's a cute kid. What's her name?"

"Kelly Marie," her mother touched the back of her hand to her forehead for a moment and sat on the nearest loveseat abruptly. "Have you found Greg?"

"We weren't aware he was missing."

Mrs. Barton exhaled in relief and held out her palms, laughing uneasily. "It would have been a phone call if they had found him alive, you know? You being here in person I thought the worst…"

"I'll make sure I keep my ears open for anything we might hear through the grapevine." Kailah assured her and sat carefully on the edge of the armchair in the corner. "I'm wondering what you can tell me about Cal Traven."

Kailah didn't miss the unpleasant flicker that passed in Barton's eyes. "The reason Greg and I had the fight."

"No offense, Mrs. Barton, but what were you doing with a fifty-four-year-old man?"

"Showing my husband I didn't have to be Suzie Homemaker if I didn't want to be." She replied in a small voice and clutched her elbows. "Cal threw money around. I was attracted to the exact opposite of what I married. Older, richer, and dumber."

For somewhere in her early thirties, Barton looked healthy and young. Kailah, carefully combing her fingers over her yellow-tinged eye, cleared her throat. "He won that money when you lost your suit on behalf of his wife. Why didn't he appear in court?"

"His funds were seized when she sued. He couldn't make bail. He opted not to be present or testify; his lawyers had a 'no evidence' policy. I never saw him." Barton sounded almost mechanical. "I made one court appearance, and the rest of the time the intern I was training did the talking and filing."

"What did you do when you found out he was Ms. O'Dowd's husband?" Kailah blinked, keeping her voice even and flat.

In the other room, there was a wracking cough and Mrs. Barton stood up, her hands clenched tight. She went to the chest behind the couch and took out what appeared to be a small air pump and vial of an antibiotic. She also removed a small, plastic mask and made her way into the kitchen. Kailah followed and leaned against the door while Goren helped fit the mask of Kelly's face and patted her on the back encouragingly while she took deep gulps of air.

"She was born with cystic fibrosis?" Goren asked quietly.

Barton's head bobbed. "Greg's side of the family has a lot of CF genes. Kelly's mutation is rare. We've been fighting, but we're not winning by much." She smiled sweetly for her daughter, who impatiently pulled the mask from her face and pointed at the smeared paint.

"They smell bad." She choked out. "Makes my nose hurt."

Goren stood up eagerly, his face neutral. "I'll help clean up."

"There's a rag under the sink, next to the trash—"

Kailah watched Kelly breathing, her undersized chest rising and falling sporadically. "When was the last time you saw Cal?"

"About two weeks before Christmas." Barton replied curtly. "Around the time I found out."

Kailah lifted her eyebrows. "Cal's boss said—"

"She's mistaken." Barton interrupted in a short voice, her brown eyes flashing behind her glasses. "If you don't mind, my daughter needs me."

Goren pulled open the cabinet and extracted the trash bin, pretending to dig around for a rag to clean up Kelly's mess when he noticed a small plastic bin of recyclables. Inside were two bottles of top-shelf champagne.

Kailah cleared her throat behind him and he turned, straightening.

"Thank you, Detective." Barton murmured as Goren returned to the table and wiped up the watercolor paints smeared on the table. He deposited the rag in the sink and rinsed, staring at the bottles under the sink.

"She's going to need to go to the hospital." Barton's voice sounded a touch worried. "This isn't clearing up. We need to leave now, please."

"We'll be back," Kailah announced in a firm voice. "Thanks for your time, Mrs. Barton."

They were hardly four steps toward the car when Kailah turned, flashing Goren a grim but triumphant smile. "What do you wanna bet is missing from Traven's mini-fridge?"

"A couple bottles of Korbel." Goren replied and tilted his head back toward the house. "Well?"

"I hope to _God_ the husband isn't involved. The government money to go with her in the foster system would attract the wrong kind of parents. She probably wouldn't get treatment for very long if at all." Kailah's face twisted and she looked at Goren. "You'd think the parents would consider an alternative to murder when they have someone so dependent waiting for them."

He smiled back tightly. "You'd think."


	4. Pull

Review! It makes Chezzy happy.

* * *

ADA Ron Carver stared at the younger, blonde detective wearily as she fidgeted in her seat, watching Goren stand in the far corner, his hand over his mouth, awaiting the word.

"Two bottles of Korbel ordered by Mr. Traven not accounted for. Two bottles in relatively plain sight at the Barton household?"

"We're losing valuable time." Kailah erupted in a surprisingly calm voice. "She didn't like where our questions were going. They did something. We need to nail her when we have the opportunity. Now is perfect."

"You're going to serve her and her sick daughter with a search warrant and arrest her? Bring her in?"

"We'll bring her in for questioning." Goren supplied softly. "We found a credit card trace. Her husband is in Ohio with family. He knows something happened. He knows she did it and is hoping to stick him with it."

"It's an interesting theory, Detective—"

"Barton is the only one who could have done it." Kailah's voice was no longer soft or contemplative. She sounded thoroughly annoyed, though her face was still blank and relaxed. "The vomit on the scene could be matched. We just need to find her local hangout. She's the only one emotionally invested enough to be compelled to supply a faulty motive and to throw up at the scene."

Carver looked at the two of them, Goren with his hand back over his mouth, his elbow propped in his opposite hand, and Kailah, her legs crossed neatly, sitting in a padded leather chair in his office.

"I understand you both agree Mrs. Barton—"

"Aw, c'mon, look at the evidence!" Kailah spat out, her face finally betraying her irritation. "Are you letting the sick child get in the way? The husband is fleeing because he had nothing to do with it. His whereabouts are accounted for. She'll be taken care of—we're not stripping her of the only family she has."

"If the husband cares so much—"

Goren squirmed and tilted. "Mrs. Barton isn't a bad _mother._ She's an unstable woman, but she knows her place as her daughter's caregiver."

Carver put his palms out, his face blank and flat. "You can bring her in. You can question her. She's a lawyer—she'll be savvy to all your tricks. I'm telling you unless you get more evidence you aren't going to rattle her. You're not going to get a confession, and without a confession, no jury is going to send the mother of a CF patient to prison."

Kailah stood up, collecting her coat and messenger bag. She shot Carver a pleasant smile. "We'll see you at the hearing for the Grand Jury."

Goren bit his lip to hide a smile as they made their way out to Kailah's car and made their way back over to Trisha Barton's home in Manhattan. Finally Kailah squirmed and looked at her partner cautiously.

"You don't think Mrs. Barton is a bad mother?"

"She takes care of her daughter. That's a mother's duty."

"She has to take care of herself, too."

"Not if she can't." Goren felt his throat getting a little tight and he clenched his teeth for a brief moment to loosen his jaw and throat muscles.

"She can." Kailah pressed. "She did something to jeopardize her ability to care for her child. That's not something a good mother would do."

He opened his mouth to demand she drop the matter when Kailah pulled over and reached for her bag. She reached inside for her wallet and paused, turning the engine off.

"Parents damage their children, there's no mistake about it. There's no disagreement arresting her would be the right thing, am I correct?"

Goren glanced at her, realizing his error. Kailah's green eyes were focused tightly on his face, waiting for him to finally look at her, and once she'd arrested his gaze, she held him.

He felt his jaw clench again and he slowly grated out a reply. "Arresting Trisha Barton is necessary, but not for the survival of her family. For justice, sure."

"You feel her daughter would be safe with a murderer?"

Goren felt his foundation slowly crumbling.

"What's wrong?" Kailah finally retrieved her wallet and stared up at him again fearlessly. "What is it?"

"Why are we arguing about this?" He asked, amazed at the tiredness in his voice.

"You look more exhausted than I've seen you all week. I may have only been here for twelve days, Goren, but you aren't as hard to read as you think." She pulled out enough money for a couple cups of gas station coffee and blinked at him. "I've figured out enough to keep the well-oiled machine functioning, but it's not going to keep rust from eating away at the insides."

He stared at her, willing her to evaporate, and then fidgeted with the zipper on his portfolio, allowing his eyes to dart away.

"Anyway, we'll pick up Mrs. Barton and get the confession." Kailah sighed and briefly touched the faint bruise under her eye.

Goren was torn between hating Kailah and revering her. She certainly didn't seem intimidated, and while it was a useful talent, especially for a woman who was so aware of the difficulties a woman faced when she worked what was supposedly a man's job. As much as he was impressed with her, Goren was a little irked she wasn't afraid to go toe-to-toe with him. She wouldn't back down. Twelve days sitting across from him. One case, not even completed yet. She was figuring him out in record time.

Kailah reappeared with two steaming cups of coffee, one of which was handed to him. He thanked her softly and watched as she put the car in reverse and backed from her spot.

They met a couple of police cars at the scene where they were executing the search warrant. Trisha Barton stood just outside her front door, holding the small hand of her daughter.

Goren got out of the car and made his way over to the stoop where Barton and her daughter stood in coats and boots, the mother wearing a flat, resigned expression. The daughter's breath was coming out in short puffs and her eyes were large and uncertain.

Bending a little, Kailah smiled gently for the little girl, who smiled back buoyantly and waved at Goren and her. Putting on a pair of latex gloves, Goren winked carefully and slipped inside among the CSUs.

After a couple hours of mostly fruitless searching, the CSUs concluded the only usable evidence were the champagne bottles. Slightly frustrated, Goren stripped off the gloves and put all the drawers of the bureau back in place. As they continued to straighten the rooms they had invaded, he closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else the two would have shared.

"Hey," Kailah interrupted his thoughts quietly. "She's going cooperatively. We have to go pretty quick."

"And the husband?"

"On a flight from Toledo to pick up the daughter."

He nodded and tucked his gloves in his pocket before holding the door for Kailah. "Ready?"

"I'm not bad at the interrogation." Kailah grinned. "Just the undercover. No experience, you see?"

Grunting quietly, Goren got into the car and closed the door. He waited patiently for Kailah to change the active CD, turn the volume up just a little bit, and then pull out to venture back to One Police Plaza. He wasn't paying close attention, but after a while he became aware she was listening to an early Beatles album, humming along as usual.

"She's a lawyer." He commented.

"Yeah, and she knows how to put on a face. She knows how cops work, too. She's probably sat in on dozens of interrogations and seen every good-cop bad-cop routine. So let's scare her." Kailah gave Goren a contemplative look. "What do they do when there's no good-cop in sight?"

"She files a complaint against us." Goren started to smile.

"Yeah, but it's not illegal to badger her. She probably won't ask for a lawyer." Kailah made a left-hand turn and glanced at Goren again. "And if it doesn't work, we don't have to be shy. We can switch techniques."

Goren shrugged and glanced at the eleventh floor as they made their way to the parking garage next door to the police building.

Waiting between the twin interrogation rooms was Danny Ross. He stood with his hands locked behind him, watching the woman cleaning her glasses inside the nearer room. When Goren and Cairn entered behind him, he turned just a little and regarded them without looking at them, allowing his profile to face them.

"She beat the crap out of our fifty-four-year-old victim? The former navy veteran?"

"He had a blood-alcohol level three times the legal limit." Kailah replied firmly. "He was trashed."

Ross tilted his head, considering it all, and then shrugged half-heartedly. "I just don't see it."

"It's what she's hoping, I think." Goren arranged some papers and tilted his head. "C'mon, Kailah."

Kailah removed her suit coat and stood up nice and tall, her shoulders back. Ross took note of the way she prepared her entire body for an interrogation, and when she entered the room, she looked an impenetrable force.

Goren dropped his portfolio to the table, startling Barton. He sat with a heavy sigh and unbuttoned his suit coat, casting wary glances at Kailah as he did so.

"Where's my daughter?"

"Child services." Kailah replied robotically, her shoulders still back. Her chin jutted out just a fraction of an inch, but Goren didn't miss the aggressiveness of the action. "Waiting for her father."

"So she's not going to foster care?"

"Why would she?" Goren asked, purposefully trying to sound curious and yet very aware. He frowned as she turned, scowling at him, and then lifted his eyebrows, shrugging helplessly. "I'm looking at a lot of evidence, Mrs. Barton. The least you could do is let me know why you're worried neither you nor your husband with be around to take care of Kelly Marie. And her cystic fibrosis."

Barton's eyes darkened, but she didn't reply immediately. Kailah smirked, thinking she was expecting the "good-cop" to come to the rescue, but when she wheeled to see why Kailah hadn't come to her aid, she was simply sitting in her chair, her left arm behind the back, holding herself in a half-slouched, comfortably arrogant position.

Barton's concerned mother façade decayed. "Cut the crap, Detectives. I want to know why I'm here. As a lawyer, I know my rights. Show me everything you have." She gritted her teeth.

Goren's flailing hope he could prove to Kailah she was a good _mother_ and a terrible _person_ floundered, and the case took priority, leaving his concerns without warrant. He took out the entire file and extended his hand, dropping it in front of her.

"I could walk you through it, Mrs. Barton." He stood and hovered over her shoulder closely, watching her pick through the files carefully to avoid the crime scene photos.

Kailah made a motion as if telling Goren to hurry it up. "Yeah, and tell her what we're missing and show her all the holes, Tiffany."

For a moment, he just stared at her, almost reprimanding her, and then he smiled sweetly. "Give me a little credit, Kailah."

She lifted her hands in mock surrender and then pointed to the file in Barton's hands. "Dead limo driver full of Korbel and fast food. Two missing bottles of champagne from the back, both of them later found at your house, Mrs. Barton. His fingerprints on the bottom of the bottle."

"The only place you forgot to wipe, I'm guessing." Goren added as he motioned for Kailah to continue.

"Teeth banged into the steering wheel, six bullets in his chest." Kailah chewed the inside of her cheek, hoping to let something bounce off her partner. "And a pile of sushi about a hundred feet from the body."

Barton's head whipped up and she sent them both an incredulous stare. "Sushi?"

"Well, to be fair, Mrs. Barton," Goren sat again, scooting uncomfortably close, "it was vomit. But our techies found a peculiar brand of spice on the fish. Something only a handful of sushi places in New York City use. Two of them are out in Manhattan. My partner and I? We make two phone calls and find out if you ate there a couple weeks ago and tie a neat ribbon around this file and hand it to the DA."

"I have no motive." Barton floundered.

Kailah didn't open her mouth. She felt a certain amount of panic coming from Barton which only amplified when she didn't receive help. To have two interrogators shooting questions and the like at her would have served only to have shut her down. So Kailah folded her arms and allowed Goren to take free reign.

"No motive?" Goren jabbed the bottom file, which Barton pulled out slowly, dumbly. "Remember Brenda O'Dowd, Mrs. Barton? You have a talent for singing your heart out to the juries of America, and for putting together strong cases for your superiors to take to the Supreme Court. Didn't you help put together statements for the Free Speech Coalition?"

She nodded mutely, staring at the Brenda O'Dowd case in your hands.

"This man, he cared so _little_ about human rights, about the civil liberties you spent your entire legal career defending. He tried to have his wife committed so he could put his mitts on her money, and you found out you were sleeping with him." Goren laughed, and Kailah almost winced when the sound reached her ears, but she saw Barton flinch and smirked just a touch. "That's not a motive?"

"I'm a lawyer. I would have…I would have found a different way."

"He didn't do anything wrong, did he? Double-jeopardy prevented you from punishing him for what he did to his wife, and you had no legal reason to have him imprisoned for what he did to you." Goren held his hands out pleadingly. "You were feeling, possibly for the first time, futility. No, I take that back." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "When your daughter was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, that was futility showing its ugly face. And you couldn't let it happen again. _That's_ why you took action, Mrs. Barton."

Again her head whipped over to Kailah, who just leaned in closer and tilted her head toward the one-way glass. "Your husband loves you for your civic engagement, Mrs. Barton. Did you think he'd take you for a hero? He's coming for his daughter, and even if we don't get you today, he'll be long gone and Kelly Marie—"

Mrs. Barton wheeled around, looking for anyone to help her heave her drowning body out of the melee, but no life preserver came, and when she faced Kailah again, Kailah was face to face with the woman who had killed Cal Traven. She lifted her hands too late, and before Goren could stand up or shout for a cease-fire, Mrs. Barton had landed a solid left hook against the faint bruise beneath Kailah's right eye and an open handed slap against her other cheek.

Goren stood quite uselessly as two armed police officers burst in. Kailah, however, had already pulled Mrs. Barton's arm and had her on her stomach on the ground, her knee pressed into the back of her neck.

"Get it," she ground out between her teeth.

Goren bent very close to Barton's face and pursed his lips a little, looking thoughtful. "Where's the gun, Mrs. Barton?"

"Fuck you," she whispered and was hauled off her feet in handcuffs to be taken to a holding cell.

When Kailah stood and brushed her hair out of her face, Goren winced and motioned at her eye. "You're not out of the woods yet."

"Yeah, well, it's a little blurry." She scrubbed at it with the heels of her hands and then threw both arms in the air. "I get to use up my medical insurance while I'm here…get my fucking eye checked out. It's probably ruptured a blood vessel or something."

As she drew her hands away, he could see the eye was bloodshot and the swelling around it was starting to come in stronger. The purpling wasn't back yet, but the yellow tinge beneath her eye had gone an angry red, and soon he was sure the broken blood vessels would be dotting her face.

"The best thing we can do to get the case solid enough for an arrest is a witness for the sushi bar." He looked her up and down and held his hand out. "Give me your keys. We'll take you to the ER and get that checked out. Then we can go check out those two sushi places."

"It's my turn to buy." She replied as she led him to her desk where she kept her keys. As she shouldered her messenger bag and draped her coat over her arm, she gingerly pressed her fingers into the soft, tender skin around her wound. "I never did—"

"My treat." He guided her into the elevator and jabbed the lobby floor button.

"You better not be feeling guilty about that whack-job, Tiff."

"It can't be helped." He blinked, but before she could snap back a reply, he added, "You might not want to call me 'Tiffany' in front of the suspect next time."

Kailah made a noise like a grunt and tilted her head, frowning as though confused. "I was almost sure you enjoyed that."

He would have replied except that the elevator doors opened and admitted a pair of women from the fourth floor. Buttoning his lip, he allowed Kailah to declare a wrongful victory and shook his head.

While Kailah was being examined by the doctor, Goren sat in the waiting room examining the three sushi places they had yet to canvass. The two in Manhattan were relatively close together. They had to narrow down their choices if they wanted to keep their noses out of the loop, especially since Goren had a sneaking suspicion Barton's only phone call wouldn't be wasted on a lawyer, but on the only witness who could seal her in her tomb.

Kailah emerged from the back with a prescription and a pronounced scowl. She held up an eye-patch and made a face, sticking her tongue out viciously.

"How long do they want you to wear that?" He asked, standing up and holding her coat out for her.

"A couple of weeks!" She exclaimed in irritation. "I told them the pirate look didn't jive with my job, so they asked me to wear it while reading and all that cal."

"Well, if she jostled some frazzled nerves, it makes sense to let it rest." He handed her bag and stood for a moment, looking at his feet.

Kailah waited and then reached and thumped him on the chest. "What now?"

"If you want we could get some practice doing undercover." He chanced a quick glimpse of her face.

"And how do we present the evidence to the DA?" She asked, but he could hear the note of curiosity in her voice.

"We use the undercover to get to the person, not to get the information out of the person. It's to avoid raising suspicion from the people who may be working for Barton." He tilted his head a little, understanding he hadn't made a lot of sense. "If she called the place she ate at to make sure they don't tell us she was there, she probably told the manager. That's who we'd ask. We'll go in as friends of Barton. We'll find out who the regular waitresses are, show her picture, have dinner, and get out."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Kailah's face. "I don't know…"

"What if we _need_ to use it later?"

She nodded, a tired sigh issuing from her. She prodded her face and looked at her prescription. "Can we pick up my pain meds first?"

"Sure," he held his arm out for a moment, directing her around a low table where all the out-of-date magazines were heaped. She narrowly avoided knocking her knees and cursed, patting his arm once before making her way half blind to the elevators by herself.


	5. Stutter

_Author's Note: _Blargh, this update took _way_ longer than I expected. I'm sorry. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Well?"

"Now it just looks like I hit you." Goren sighed and looked at his watch. "We'll be fine. Let's just go inside, Kailah."

She furiously applied more cover-up to the swollen mess around her eye and dabbed on a light shadow, hoping it masked the color. To her dismay, the swelling was just as big a giveaway. Giving up, she looked over at him and zipped her make-up case closed.

"Okay, first you have to pick your character and commit." He opened his door and got out, staring inside at her. "You coming?"

"I haven't picked my character."

"You need a read on the person we're interviewing, first." He gestured for her to hurry. "C'mon, we're late for the dinner rush. We won't blend in so easy."

Kailah hastened, nearly tripping in the heels she'd chosen to look more domestic, and found herself jogging to catch up with him. As they drew near the door, she poked his arm.

"We're not playing it like you hit me, are we?"

He shot a scowl at her. "Of course not. We want these people to like me."

Smiling, Kailah thrust her arm through his, holding herself against his side carefully, and he took the part of a protective male to heart. Eames had perfected how to slink around him, using him like an accessory, but Kailah was a rookie.

They approached the hostess booth. Goren could tell from the way a tall, heavyset man with a thick mustache hovered behind the hostess he was the manager and they'd stumbled into the correct sushi place.

"Table for two?"

"Sure, if you've got it." Kailah flashed her a brilliant smile. "This is the place with the open seating on the deck in the summer, right? Our friend Trisha told us all about it."

The manager swelled, his folded arms coming out in his suspicion. Goren started to smile, anticipating, thinking it wouldn't be so easy, and then—

"Who are you, exactly?" The manager asked brusquely.

"Joel Taylor," he extended his arm toward Kailah. "This is my wife, Angela. They went to law school together."

His suspicions quelled a little, he stepped back and nodded toward the far wall. "Put 'em next to the patio, Rachel."

Goren let Kailah take the lead, carefully placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her between tables. She was wobbly from the pain medication, the lack of vision in her right eye, and the heels. Between the three, she was extremely grateful she had the option to fall back against his arm and collect herself.

"Here we are," the hostess smiled. "Your waitress will be right with you."

They sat and Goren opened his menu, shooting discreet glances toward the bar and the passing waiters and waitresses.

"Say, Go—"

"Don't!" He whispered urgently, wanting to clap a hand over her mouth. "You think we call each other by last name or rank here?"

Her face lighting up in a blush, Kailah sank behind her menu.

"Commit," he urged and touched her hand, hoping to appear like a doting husband and nothing more, and when she jerked her hand away and forced a painful smile on her face. "It wasn't a big mistake." He added, feeling rotten.

The waitress appeared and smiled brilliantly for the couple, her hands on her hips delicately. "Hiya, folks. My name is Lily and I'll be your server tonight." She extended a couple of drink menus and continued her spiel. Kailah, Goren noticed, had flawlessly reapplied her happy-housewife act and was fooling their too-perky waitress.

Wondering just what was advisable wouldn't do her any good, so Kailah waited for Goren to order and accepted when he ordered them both non-alcoholic something or others and smiled sweetly for her. She could, she winced to think about it, get used to the overly sweet guy sitting across from her. He was at least free of baggage. The polite gentleman was still there, as if impossible to squelch, and yet he was much more endearing. It was the extra effort.

"So, I'll go up to the bar and see if anyone remembers our girl." Goren stood up and bent close to her ear. "You're doing fine, Cairn."

She closed her eyes as he walked away, and when the waitress reappeared with her drinks, she smiled brilliantly again.

"Oh, he's checking out the bar after all, hey?" Lily laughed and sat carefully in Goren's spot. "Well, did he tell you what you'd both have?"

Kailah didn't miss the note of teasing and smiled carefully. "He likes aoyagi, but I'll take some ama-ebi." She closed both of their menus and handed them over, smiling again. She noticed the woman staring at her eye, her face filled with horror for teasing her before about the controlling husband, and Kailah felt a cloak settle over her.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart." She touched the eye gingerly. "I was complaining about getting a little pudgy in the winter, so he got me some kickboxing lessons for Valentine's Day. I'm still a rookie, so I get a few bumps and bruises now and then." She dipped her head toward him as he reappeared. "He's a big guy, but he's a sweetie."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry—"

"No, it's no big deal. I didn't want to upset you." Kailah watched the girl stand up and then tilted her head. "You wouldn't happen to know Trisha Barton, would you?"

"Sure, the boss lets her do free drinks now and then, after she wins cases. She's a lawyer, I think."

Goren grinned as he sat down and passed Kailah some mixed drink with a smile. "She's a good friend of ours."

"Yeah?" Lily's eyes lit up, happy to be of help at last. "I haven't seen her for a while now, but she usually sits closer to the bar, in Tony's section."

The bathrooms were back by the bar, and Kailah sent Goren a 'stay-put' smile and thanked Lily. When they were gone, she didn't bother casting off her cloak. She told him she'd ordered aoyagi for him, relished the look of surprise on his face, and stood up, dragging her fingers across his arm.

"I'll be in the little ladies' room, big guy."

He turned to watch her, make sure she could navigate herself, but she didn't walk like Kailah. The cop-swagger, the "I'm-tough-and-I-know-it" walk was gone, replaced with a graceful sway. Her hips swung back and forth, and after a moment, Goren blinked and whipped back around.

Lily was back with white rice for the table. She smiled, trying to stifle the knowing smirk trying to override the innocent and friendly smile.

"I," Goren swallowed, realizing he was caught, "never get tired of watching her walk away." He fought a wince. Kailah would have covered her ass and yowled and protest at him if she knew he had stared, but it had been totally involuntary. He blinked hard, unable to erase the image from behind his eyelids, and forced a shy smile when the waitress laughed gently.

"She walks like she knows you're watching." Lily winked and disappeared again.

Kailah stood in the bathroom a moment, observing her face. She touched the swollen area and let out a shaky sigh. With a confident smile for her reflection, she shrugged on her costume once more, and exited the bathroom looking refreshed.

She swung around the corner of the bar just as a waiter snagged a cigarette from the bartender and took a loving drag. "Thanks, you're a doll, Matt, really."

"Yeah, back off, Tony." The bartender groused and took his cigarette back.

Lifting her eyebrows, Kailah seized the waiter's arm before he took his tray of drinks. "Tony, right?"

"Who's asking?" The look on his face was utterly suspicious.

"Angela Taylor. I was wondering if Trisha was hanging around tonight. Have you seen her? She's the—"

"Trisha?" Tony's forehead wrinkled. "You mean the lawyer woman? Ugh, she's one I wouldn't mind shoving over into a hetero section." He gestured toward the corner table. "She was here about a week and a half, maybe two weeks ago."

"You're sure she hasn't been in since?"

"Not since she brought her nasty older boyfriend—possibly her grandfather." Tony removed his arm from Kailah's grasp, his waxed eyebrows lifting a little. "He wouldn't eat a _thing._ She invited him here and all he whined about was 'all-you-can-eat' this and 'all-you-can-eat' that at whatever his favorite joint is…"

Kailah's grin turned up a notch, but she injected a little disappointment. "Well, thanks."

As she returned to Goren and sat, she felt a weird sort of relief come tumbling out. Her suburban housewife poise faded; Goren watched her sag into a slouch. Had she been standing, her feet would have leapt apart as if she were preparing to launch into a boxing match at any second. Gone was whimsical, feminine Kailah. Not that the creature sitting across from him wasn't feminine, it just wasn't an exerted effort. It made the soft curves most women flaunted something of a treasure. He didn't bother searching for gold.

"Well?"

"He distinctly remembers the last time Mrs. Barton was here she was with an older gentleman who wouldn't eat the sushi while she dined, but nagged her about getting ribs and burgers at a local joint he preferred." Kailah stuck her chopsticks in the rice and swallowed a bite without sauce or soy. "What's in this?" She poked her mixed drink.

"I'm not entirely sure. The bartender names his own drinks, so it might be anything." He took a gulp of his own and watched the restaurant activity out of the corners of his eyes.

Kailah took a ginger sip and smiled delightedly. "This would be called an Envy."

"And why is that?"

"I don't name the drinks." Kailah dismissed. "I just know it has melon flavored liqueur and grape juice. Possibly vodka…I'm a little rusty."

"You worked as a bartender?"

"After I got back from Korea I had to find _something_ to pay for part of my expenses through college and the academy." Kailah laughed and picked up a soy sauce bottle and twirled it expertly. "I've got the bottle-twirling 'Coyote Ugly' routine down. But it's not very useful unless you've got an audience who gets really excited by spinning bottles and funnels."

Goren couldn't help asking as he tilted his head, "Were you raised Catholic?"

"Mormon." She replied without a bat of an eyelash.

"How long did that last?"

"Till high school." She smiled and glanced up as the waitress delivered their plates. They thanked her quietly and smiled, reaching for utensils again. Goren stared at his plate a moment.

"Do you prefer aoyagi or ama-ebi?" Kailah's face knitted a little in concern.

He shook his head, indicating she shouldn't worry, and she seized his plate and switched them. "Here, try mine. I didn't want to wait for you to get back from the bar, I just ordered—"

"It's _fine._" He muttered, stilling her waving hand. "I've had lots of sushi, and I like ama-ebi and aoyagi, I swear."

Kailah paused as if she still didn't quite believe him, and then seized her plate back. "Gimme, then!"

Shaking his head, Goren picked up his drink and took a gulp before glancing uneasily at the manager who was sweeping through. He adjusted his face and sent Kailah an easy smile, pleased when she smiled back, tilting her head. She played off him very well. For her first time undercover, it was impressive.

* * *

Alex Eames stood between the mule who brought heroin into the country via Mexico and the biggest seller in Denver, Colorado. She accepted a kiss on the cheek from the mule and winked when he walked away, folding her arms over her chest. No amount of time with Goren's bait-dangling and no amount of time in Vice got her used to the slimy guys who thought they owned her. 

"Make yourself at home, pretty lady." The man moved to walk away and Alex heard her phone ringing. She nearly let out a sigh of relief, but instead bit her lip.

"I might have to take that. Mind if I give that a rain-check? If it's my mom…"

Not looking bothered at all, which relieved Alex immensely, he waved and made his way to the couch where he fished a little of his partner's product and deposited it onto a mirror for consumption.

Alex took her purse and coat and galloped out the door to the hall. She answered at last. "Hello?"

"It's two thirteen in the afternoon." Goren reported, a hint of tired pride in his voice.

Alex couldn't help but smile. "Very good, Sir. I'm just leaving a buddy's house, how have you been, sweetie?"

Goren shrugged helplessly. "Ah, we finished a case. How long before you're out of this house?"

"Getting a cab now." Alex laughed. "Don't like my pet names?"

"Tad creepy. Especially since the new girl calls me 'Tiffany.'"

Eames slipped into the cab and closed the door, covering the mouthpiece a moment. "Number 13, Park Place." She turned her attention back to her partner. "She calls you what?"

"Tiffany. She perceives my name as fitting on a little boy—actually, she thinks of her high school sweetheart when she hears it. I think she's bothered I'm a cop named something she always thought of as sweet and innocent."

Eames snorted. "Ever the gentleman, aren't you, Bobby? It's been two weeks and you're still letting her do it."

"Well…" He couldn't quite defend the action, or justify it. It was a puzzling notion, and he frowned a little.

Waving her hand as if telling him to forget about it, Eames added, "Anyway, it's looking like the empire is more than cocaine and whatnot. And they're getting spooked. The good news is they don't think it's me."

"Are you in a safe place to be talking about it?" Goren asked quietly.

Eames observed the taxi driver, who was on his own cell phone. She tilted her head. "I believe I'm fine, Goren."

"Just checking. I don't want anything to happen." He looked at courthouse clock and sat up. "Recess is over. We're making sure Carver nails the girl—she refused to confess. We had to get witnesses, so I should go."

"So, wait, why'd you call?" Eames protested, frowning as she paid the cabby and got out of the taxi. She walked toward her apartment with a pronounced scowl.

Goren was quiet and then he murmured, "Sometimes it worries me I'm doing as well as I am without you here."

Eames' mouth worked open, but no sound came out. She was still frowning slightly, but it no longer felt annoyed.

"I really have to go. Call me when you have a minute." He hung up without another word and turned off his phone, making his way back into the courtroom where court had adjourned to hear the testimony of one Mrs. Trisha Barton.

* * *

"We're getting a case transferred from sex crimes and SVU." Ross informed Kailah and Goren as he arrived at the bullpen after the Barton case had officially closed. "Serial rapist escalates to murder, it's looking like. I have all the files in my office." 

As Goren watched Kailah sleepily collect her coffee cup and wits, he walked ahead and held the door for her, fighting a smirk as she felt her way to the doorway and eased inside, allowing her hair to cover up her eye. She refused to wear the patch at all.

Ross watched Goren slip inside and close the door behind himself. As the detective sat beside his partner, he lugged out a plastic storage bin full of papers, crime scene photographs, and statements.

"Is this the same case as the rape-murder down by the East River?" Goren asked before Ross could even begin.

"I read they connected two other rapes to that rape-murder, but there's been another couple since that happened." Kailah's voice was flat, deep, and quiet. She appeared to be nodding off into her mug now and then, but the aroma was keeping her senses keen.

Ross nodded slowly and pushed the bin toward Goren. "Right, well, about six months ago SVU was investigating the rape of a fellow officer who worked in Vice. Two months later, same officer, same guy. Still no leads. A couple of strip-clubs have reported rapes since then, and just recently Robert Mikowski's daughter was—"

"Is _that_ why we're in on this?" Kailah asked abruptly, sounding much more awake. "Because some politician's daughter was raped?"

"Because, Detective Cairn, this politician is considering running for public office and his daughter was raped and murdered." Ross blinked at her evenly. "Her heart was cut out—the guys at SVU think it was a message to her father."

Goren bent and started picking through the files and unearthed the crime-scene photo of the young, well-dressed woman with the open wound in her chest. "This was a perimortem wound?"

"For the most part, yes. He didn't go quite fast enough to get the heart out of her body before she died, but he used what appears to be a bone-saw on her ribs—"

"That doesn't follow his former pattern, though." Goren objected. "He was following prostitutes, strippers…this is a well-dressed, conservative woman. She wasn't asking for it like he might have assumed others were before. And the defiling of the body prior to death? It's—"

"Once the murders started, he began taking trophies from the bodies. This is the first organ, I'll grant you, but still—"

"No, this murder was politically motivated. The rapist is not. He may have had help, or may have been told about this woman, but I doubt he did this all by himself."

Kailah, Goren noticed, had gotten very quiet, but her eyes were open. He didn't try to roust her.

Ross lifted his hands. "Whatever your theories are, Goren, just find him, okay?"

Kailah sat heavily in front of her computer as Goren started poring through statements and the like. She paused a moment, and then began clicking around. Shortly after, a quiet guitar lick began.

"Which would you like? Photos or statements?" He asked.

Kailah glanced at him, her eye almost back to normal size, and shrugged. "I guess statements. What about after we're done reading through this box of rocks?"

"We look for possible leads and chase them down. You know the deal."

"I've actually never worked a rape before." Kailah murmured quietly. "I'm something of a rookie again."

"Well, if it hadn't turned into a murder, it wouldn't be on our laps." Goren muttered softly. "Generally we don't get the pleasure of talking to living victims."

Kailah gave him a look as if she couldn't be sure if he was being a total ass or just frank.

"I for one have a hard time talking to rape victims. I have no empathy—it's too dangerous to me." He held his palms out. "Murders, rapists, and all that? I can get in their heads. It's the victims…"

Kailah looked at him again, the questioning all gone. "I can pretend, but I am much more comfortable in the victim's head."

Goren glanced up at her briefly as he picked through the crime scene photos. "Don't empathize too much, then. It'll kill you."

"Ditto." She replied in a biting sort of tone and seized a handful of testimonies to rip through.

* * *

Goren pulled his head out of his arm just as the call came in. He looked at his phone and then at Kailah's, which was ringing, and dragged himself to his feet to find her in the sick bay where she had commandeered a bed. He sat down sluggishly in the nearest chair and groaned, rubbing his forehead. 

Kailah sat up entirely too quickly for a woman who had been sleeping and had limited vision in her left eye. She swooned and reached blindly, flashing light on the two of them as she smoothed her skirt and cursed.

"We got a call. I think it's a crime scene."

"What? It's been three days—"

"I know, I know." He reached and pulled her up and around the other chair, watching as she slid her feet around, searching for her discarded shoes. "Call is from Dispatch, and they don't call unless it's important."

"Well, did you answer?"

He looked at her, willing her to hurry and wake up, and held up the glowing screen of his phone. "Message from Dispatch," he read aloud. "Crime scene at location 414 Riverside, Chelsea."

Kailah finally found her shoes, grimacing as she groped her way to the door. "I should have the week off. I can't work like this. I'm going to be useless…going to have to interview the shields and witnesses…"

"Someone has to do it, right? And I have seniority."

"If I had two good eyes, I'd find one of yours and punch it out of your head, Goren…" She growled.

"Oh, so when I'm in trouble I'm not Tiffany?"

She turned, focusing one tired eye and one bruised, bloodshot eye on him wearily. "I don't need this now, Goren. I've been working for 28 hours straight. I can easily have a freak-out."

Logan, bustling through, glanced at Goren and Kailah. "Hey, you get the call about 414 Riverside?"

"Yeah, why--?"

Logan deposited some papers on his desk and picked up his coat, rushing to stand beside Kailah. "Double rape-homicide. Politician's wife and sister."

"_What?"_ Goren asked, his eyebrows lifting. "After his daughter?"

"Yeah; Ross is _livid._ He's calling in all us hotshots. I got to dump my murder down with Homicide. You ready to roll or what?"

"Wait for me!" Wheeler cried, covering the mouthpiece of her phone frantically. "Mike, I swear if you don't wait for me—"

"C'_mon,_" Mike slung an amiable arm over Kailah's shoulders. "I'll be your seeing eye dog."

"Mike!" Wheeler shrieked as she started to lead Kailah toward the elevators.

Goren grabbed Kailah's coat and gave Wheeler an "I'll-take-care-of-it" look. As he zipped his portfolio and caught up to the duo, he caught Kailah's arm and spun her into his, draping her coat over her shoulders.

"Hands off, Logan. Get your partner and we'll meet you at the scene."

"Don't piss too much, big boy." Logan grumbled. "We're both on this case."

Kailah, pushing her hands against Goren's chest unhappily, glared up at his overprotective scowl. "We're stopping for coffee or I no workee."

Goren's phone started ringing while he pushed the elevator call button. "Sure, I think there's a 7-11—"

"No, Bobby!" Kailah protested, and Goren again felt himself confounded by her newfound moniker for him. "There's a Starbucks one block out of our way—"

"This is a _rape-murder,_ Kailah." He moved to lift the phone to his ear when he noticed the caller ID kick in. "Jessica Kelmer."

"Who's Jessica Kelmer?" Kailah asked, sounding slightly more alert.

"Eames," he realized out loud. "Her undercover is Jessica." He hesitated, then pushed "ignore call" and pushed the lobby floor button. "We're not going out of our way for coffee. Wake up, Kailah, we've got _work_ to do."

"Sure, I've only been working since nine o' clock _yesterday."_ Kailah griped, but shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts and kicked her brain into high-gear. "It's definitely politically motivated."

"Or he saw it threw us off his scent."

"What scent?" Kailah challenged. "He didn't leave us anything."

"He left his profile all over the place. We get even more crime scene to add, and this time no photos and testimony. We'll be there. It's our best shot." He glanced at Kailah." It's our best shot to help these women, right?"

Not surprisingly, this soothed Kailah. She nodded firmly and leaned, seizing his arm as the elevator came to an abrupt halt. She wobbled a moment and then rubbed her eye, setting off without a backward glance. Shaking his head, Goren took off after her to make sure she didn't walk into a door.


	6. Green

_Author's Note: _This chapter rated 'Q' for "Queasy." If you don't want to read about the crazy crime scene I made up (involving a pretty wicked rape-murder), skip some of it. I can't say there aren't some pivotal plot points, but nothing you can't catch up on later. You've been warned, I hope. ALSO: thanks for the reviews! I love them. They make me smile and make squealing noises.

* * *

Just when he thought he'd seen at least enough to hide his surprise, Goren stepped past the human shield protecting the bodies from the prying eyes of the Press and public and promptly collected his jaw in his hands to force it shut. He turned, hoping to warn Kailah, a self-admitted rookie, and winced when her face drained of all color and her bruise, so dark before, lit flame-like along the lines of her face, a royal purple.

"Christ," he heard her muttering as she carefully pulled her pen and notepad from her messenger bag and pulled her shoulders back. Tossing some hair over her eye, she took a deep breath and stepped over the extended arm of the older female body right up to the terrified jogger they'd corralled into the crime scene tape until his statement could be taken.

Goren watched to make sure she wasn't sick or shaken, and when he heard her voice, flat and calm, questioning the jogger who had found the bodies, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and refocused on the two women posed between the acres of woody fields and the children's ball-field.

The older woman, her throat slit ear to ear, had fallen backward with her head tilted back. The resulting position had caused her aged face to sag a little, and when Goren moved, to observe her face closer, he winced to see she had something of a smile on her face. The weight of the world appeared to have pulled her cheeks, undoubtedly against her will, up into a grin. Her face had been painted with heavy make-up, and her arms were thrown wide, each ligament neatly sliced at the shoulder so no struggling would be tolerated.

"…I heard these crows squawking and I looked across the field here. They were _covering_ them. I couldn't see them until I got close to see what had died—I thought…" The man swallowed, Goren heard. "I thought it was a deer, or a rabbit…but it was big. I shooed the birds away and…"

"Did you get sick?" Kailah's voice interceded understandingly.

"No," the man sounded shaken and queasy now, though. "I was okay, but being in here, close? It's making me nauseous…"

"All right, let's go outside the tape. You can get some fresher air, hey?"

Goren's focus returned to the older woman. Her body had been ruined, he noted angrily as he continued to find little slices, each with sick and certain purpose. The ankles were neatly sliced at the Achilles tendon and the instep. Both eyelids were gently closed over empty sockets, and there were neat, open holes in her back, carving out her ribs where he had accessed the heart. Goren's stomach turned a little, and he regretted not letting Kailah grab a couple of pastries or something to fill his stomach. Nothing but coffee was fueling him, and the acidic, caffeine-feeling was making him sick.

He carefully pulled on the corner of the mouth, feeling the cool flesh through the glove, and winced when the jaw popped open and the woman's tongue fell out and slid across her collar bone and onto the leaves, leaving a trail of saliva across her naked chest.

Faintly Goren heard a CSU vomit into the melting snow just outside the tape. He held his pitiful breakfast down as he bagged the tongue and continued to gently probe the body for evidence. He had ignored, until now, the sister's role in the overall picture.

She was on her knees, her face resting between the older woman's legs. It was, Goren didn't even need to say, a sexually motivated pose. It was a stimulation of disgust and eroticism, and Goren wasn't fooled. He knew he would find similar wounds on the sister. The hardier CSUs were photographing everything Goren uncovered quite silently while the Press worked to get past the human shield and see what was going on. Logan, Goren noticed, was running political interference. The irony was forgotten momentarily while the noises of a man's frantic screams of disgust and anguish echoed around the small field.

_Forced sexual contact is possible. Someone should be writing this down…_ Goren gently lifted the sister's shoulder, causing her to buckle somewhat from her carefully manipulated position. Her tendons were also cut, and Goren couldn't hide his grimace this time. The torture was profound; these women went through too much for the expense of some monster. But even as he thought this, it began to make a little sense.

_It's too obvious. He wants everyone to think they're heartless. He chose this family to decimate. The defiling of the body is violent, the rapes aren't physical anymore. A guardian and a follower, and the follower just wants to please._

"Jesus," Wheeler squatted beside Goren as he carefully lifted the shoulder to peek at her bare chest. Her ribs were pulled wide but wiped of all blood. He could guess the heart was gone. But the bloodiest, dirtiest work was hidden from the spectacle of the joint pose.

"Could you write something down for me? I want to check out some facts on the Leonard Lake and Charles Ng murders." Goren frowned.

Wheeler, scribbling heatedly in her notepad, glanced up at him in surprise. "A serial? This is a little close together—"

"It's escalating because he has a partner in crime. No one deserves this." He finally pulled the older woman's sister from her position between her legs and heard Wheeler fall from her squat to an ungraceful seat on her butt as the sister's arms sagged impossible wide and low, and her mouth fell open, revealing her missing tongue.

"I need forceps!" Goren called in a tight voice and Wheeler whimpered while Goren, trying to be respectful, held the legs apart and approached.

"I need photos," the CSU reminded him and Goren slowed, pulling gently at the flesh he could see out of place.

Wheeler threw up as Goren pulled the tongue from the cavity and bagged it.

* * *

"I mean it, I want this sonofabitch _now._" Ross growled as he stood across from Kailah and Goren, both of whom were running three-days empty. They looked like ghosts; Kailah in particular looked as if she hadn't closed her eyes since she had arrived at work on a pleasant Tuesday what felt like months ago.

"We want him too!" Kailah argued heatedly despite her exhausted appearance. "The entire fucking family is in protective custody. We've interviewed everyone—this is turning into Beth Short as if no one last saw them between O'Grady's and Barlow…"

"This will _not_ turn into Beth Short, Cairn." Ross snapped. "Find something. Track someone down. Scare the shit out of someone and get them to _talk._"

Goren snorted, waking almost. "Talk about what? The profile says they're two guys, both of them out-of-towners. One is violent and is in charge, and the other does as he's told and is allowed to complete his fantasies as he always saw them. He's unable to overpower these women so completely on his own. We're looking for—"

"Why are we looking here? Why aren't we out _there?_"

"You know _damn_ well we can't start combing the streets for a goddamn serial killer!" Kailah exploded. "This sick bastard is in his fucking bat-cave, storing up his energy for the next hit. He's escalating, but this isn't out of control. He's made _no mistakes._"

"No fingerprints?"

"The bodies were drained of blood elsewhere and posed pre-rigor." Goren recited. "Washed with nondescript laundry soap you can get at any Laundromat in New York City."

"No drag marks or tire marks?"

"It was…" Kailah swallowed as if she were getting emotional and finally continued in a tight voice, "It was raked around the scene, really neatly. Like a Zen garden."

Ross finally lost his anger, it seemed. He sat heavily in his chair and rested his forehead in his hands, looking blankly at the cluttered surface of his usually tidy desk. He closed his eyes and heard a swish as Kailah stood and whisked herself away to be busy.

Goren sat, waiting quietly. He knew Ross was going to explain himself, or at least offer advice, and Goren preferred appearing sympathetic and feeling anxious rather than making the captain uncomfortable by asking him to go out of his way to apologize or justify himself.

"How can he be smarter than us?" Ross asked quietly.

"He's not. We have _some_ evidence. The knife cuts are all very unique. The bone saw is rusty and we can trace the maker from the metal if it's not too corroded." Goren glanced at the floor of the office and leaned forward, resting his knees on his elbows. "How's Wheeler's FBI tracker?"

"Over 250 possible suspects, Goren. White, male, middle-aged, and antisocial. The other one you think is younger? Mid twenties or thirties? Yeah, that number is right out the fucking roof." Ross sat up a little and looked at the clock. "My wife must be worrying sick. She won't let the girls out of the house for fear of a kidnapper."

"It's not the first time terror has stalked the streets of New York City." Goren replied quietly. "And it won't be the last time. We'll get him."

Ross seemed to recover all at once. He looked Goren dead in the eyes and blinked coolly. "Yeah? Then get him."

Goren expected Kailah to be working fastidiously. Her desk, though cluttered and alive, was empty. Her empty coffee mug and half-eaten Chinese food container were undisturbed, but most disturbing, he found, was the silence which permeated the late-night office. The over-timers, Logan, Wheeler, Kailah, and himself, were all silent as they pored over countless false leads and statements searching for the _one_ mistake Goren had learned even the most demanding of killers made.

No 4 Non Blondes floated through the air. There were no Beatles, Radiohead, Shins, or Fray to break up the unbearable tension as Kailah looked again and again at crime scene photos and tried to understand the victim in order to understand that which had preyed on her. Goren had to give her credit for being too tough. She hadn't looked particularly bothered—pale, but not bothered. She had helped the medical examiner do a full rape kit on both corpses and had reported her findings in detail. That part, she had confided, was easy. They were like sculptures on a metal slab for her to dissect. There, in the crime scene? They were too real.

Goren paused at the desk as Logan, rubbing a scruffy cheek croaked out a question to his partner. The light in the sick bay was off, and something clicked in Goren's head. He cast a wary glance toward the other late-night specials assisting Logan and Wheeler in their half of the investigation, and made his way quickly to the sick bay. Alarm bells went off as he entered and drew the door shut behind him.

Kailah sat up quickly, her back pressed against the far wall in mortification.

"I just needed a couple hours sleep—" She began, but her voice was very small.

Goren moved and sat on the bed beside the one she had chosen and reached, touching her knee bravely. "Don't bother, Kailah. I don't think any less of you."

Kailah leaned forward a little and Goren tilted his head, letting the light from the solitary, thin window on the door fall on half of her face. Her makeup, meticulously applied to cover her bruised eye and tired bags, had run and left her looking wearier and more broken than ever. She allowed him to look at her, not able to see his expression, but knowing he was reading her quickly and efficiently. She didn't allow her face to crumple until she withdrew from the light again.

"Kailah—" He tried to console, unsure exactly how to proceed, and moved a little closer, reaching out for a hand or a wrist to grasp and squeeze.

Unsuspectingly, she pressed a furious hand into his chest. "Don't. I don't want it."

"I don't care." He replied sternly. "You—"

"I don't feel weak, Goren." She snapped, and then sniffled, her resolution dissipating. "Well, yes, I feel sort of silly for breaking down at the office, but I'm operating on three hours sleep, four-day smelly clothes, and dirty hair. I'm operating with a guy who sticks sister's tongues up vaginas and cuts tendons on victims while they're still alive. I'm dealing with my first proper sicko."

"And you're handling it well. We're making progress." He assured her.

Kailah sniffled again, this time sounding more unsteady. "It doesn't bother me I'm not doing enough. It's that I'm doing _everything _Ican and we're still not doing _enough._ Aren't you…?"

"Of course I am."

"Wouldn't know it." She whispered.

"Because I…" He swallowed. "I don't break down. I wouldn't come back on top. I would stay rock bottom. So I have to stay like…I have to stay as close to _this_ as I can until I nail the bastard and put him in prison."

"But you end up sympathizing." Kailah added in a soft voice. "When I see people so broken and twisted, I think there must be _something _that pushed them to do it. But some of their reasons, well…" She laughed, but it was painful and insincere. "I think of rotten things I've done to kids in high school, of things that have happened to me, and I wonder why there aren't more wackos out there."

Goren was quiet.

"What happened to you?" She asked then, sniffling.

He sat up a little and withdrew his hand from her knee.

Kailah moved quickly, and before he could lean all the way away, she had lunged and seized his wrist, forcing him to look her in the eye though he knew she couldn't see the definition of his face like he could see hers.

"I can't help but feel I could know as much as there is to know about Robert Goren by the time I leave. Not because you talk about yourself, but because what you let people know about you is all you let them know." Her eyes were still a little damp around the edges from tears, but she continued fearlessly. "Your partner was the closest thing you had, Bobby. How much more does she know than I do? How come you won't tell her more? Could you tell anyone? A perfect stranger? Someone broken?"

He opened his mouth to object, to say he had plenty of friends, and to add something else, but it all felt very sophomoric, and without his mind's consent, his tongue began to wag. "My mother is sick. Very sick."

Kailah's fingers tightened, but she didn't move else.

"She's schizophrenic, and we've begun treatment for lymphoma, but she's getting worse. I can't afford treatment. She's delusional and she favors my brother—my brother hasn't been in to see her, hasn't taken care of her since he left home. I left, but I…" He felt himself drowning a little and inhaled deeply to replenish his burning lungs. "I came back. He makes her proud—I wonder if she knows how much money he's stolen and borrowed to feed whatever he's on now."

He was vaguely aware Kailah had relaxed her hold and moved a tiny bit closer, but his mind had relaxed, and his powers of observation slipped.

"My father left us when I was just a kid. My brother left soon after—it was me and my mom. She was sick when I was a kid, and I had to take care of her. I…I don't know." He finished quietly and felt his lips pull into an insecure smile. "I'm two bricks short of a full load and then some. I don't want to…worry anyone, or burden anyone. I'm a heavy load—too much to care about."

The pressure on his chest was immense, but it was quickly lessening. It was a lovely feeling, to have something so heavy and dark easing off for a while, letting him breathe. The bitterness was no longer trying to creep in behind the love and worry. The "damage," as Kailah had called it before, was done and he was doing his best to live with the scars. As the last of the internal pressure released and he exhaled, he was aware of an external pressure around his ribs. He felt his fingers brush over Kailah's back and he looked down, quite at a loss for words. She pressed her cheek a little harder into his chest and hiccupped.

"Kailah?" His voice was quiet, almost embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired." She murmured. "Thanks."

He puzzled over her for a moment and then pressed his arm against her back, embracing her for a brief second, and when she drew away, her eyes mostly shut, he moved to leave her in quiet peace. Before he opened the door, her head had hit the pillow and he could hear her heavy breathing. He hoped she would get the chance to sleep for more than a couple hours, and he fervently hoped he wouldn't hear her awaken from another nightmare.

He closed the door behind himself and stood with his back pressed to it for one moment. It was, he knew, a thirty second overview, but it was far more than he'd given anyone in a day, and it was bordering on all Eames really _knew_ about him. The inferred stuff, the pastrami-sandwich loving, off-and-on cigarette smoking, half-way Romeo, finding those things out was just experience. What experience would have taken years to drag out for Kailah to discover on her own had just been offered to her in a neat little package. For all the deductive powers in the world, Robert Goren couldn't have told a soul why he did it.

It was only when he was a stone's throw from his desk when he felt the twinge in the back of his mind waking back up. His tired mind focused on the information in front of him and he started to compile lists and contrasting details from Kailah's notes on the crime scene photos. The pressure gone, he inhaled deeply, and, feeling guilty for it, smiled to the papers. _Talk to me,_ he urged the pictures. _Tell me what you can._


	7. Shrug

_Author's Note: _We make some progress here. Read on, my lovelies.

* * *

Perhaps it was because they had finally agreed to get a proper night's rest on the matter, or maybe because it was the first time in nearly four days Kailah had changed her clothes without having to sneak back to her locker in the back to switch out underwear and brush her teeth. When Kailah appeared in the bullpen in the morning, her hair trimmed and washed, her makeup flawlessly hiding her blackened eye, and a bounce, however feeble, back in her step, so arrived the witness.

Goren was, predictably, already at his desk, but he was relatively clean-shaven with a fresh suit and what looked like a couple hours sleep on his face, weathering well. Kailah dropped off a cup of coffee and waited for his possible lead when Ross held an arm out.

"Right this way, Miss Zimmerman."

Kailah and Goren shared a peculiar moment of telepathy as they face the younger woman with the denim coat collected tightly around herself. She looked somewhat frightened, but force a toothy smile and carefully placed a three-day-old newspaper on Kailah's desk.

"I seen the articles on the killer guy." She explained in a Southern drawl. "About four days ago—" Goren mentally calculated this to be the day the politician's wife and sister had gone missing. "—this guy come in all by hisself. He was twenty-one. I asked for ID to serve him, and he'd just turned the day before. I asked because he had a Kansas driver's license." She swallowed and indicated the newspaper. "He was holding that thing. All the sudden this older guy run up and goes, 'You _know_ we got somebody waiting.' He hauled him off without paying and the kid left his paper."

Goren looked at the newspaper. "Anyone touch it besides you and the kid?"

"Nuh-huh." She shook her head firmly. "I kept it behind the bar; there's something folded up in it. I thought it was a treasure, you know? He kept holding it so close. But it started to smell and…" She forced another painful smile. "I read the papers so I brung it here. I don't know _what_ it is, but it ain't normal."

Goren used the bottom of a pen to lift the folded edge of the paper and glance inside. It appeared to be a portion of a human eye; more specifically it appeared to be the optic nerve, more or less intact.

"Kailah—" Goren began and Kailah leapt up, heading him off. The night's rest and the shower had done her some immense good.

"Come with me, please, Miss Zimmerman." She took the woman's arm and smiled brilliantly. "You're a terrific help. Do you remember the young man's name, maybe? You saw his license, correct?"

"Sure," Miss Zimmerman sounded eager as Kailah led her to the interview room. "Jack something. Kimball. Maybe Gimball?"

Goren caught Kailah's eye and heard her as if in his own head. _You got the body parts, I got the witness._ He lifted the newspaper and rushed it toward the latent and forensics team, his focus set firmly on the location of the one who had carried it.

Kailah pulled out a chair for Miss Zimmerman and helped her with her coat before eagerly taking her own seat across from her. She couldn't help but throw her notepad down and lean, looking the woman directly in the eyes.

"Could you describe the young man, the old man, or both?"

"You mean like a sketch artist? Sure, I guess." She looked at the blinds in the interview room carefully, as if expecting them to close and for a hot light to beam on her face.

Kailah nodded firmly. "You say it was a Kansas state driver's license, name Jack Kimball, possibly Jack Gimball." She scribbled this down and looked up. "Where is your bar?"

"It's called the London Tower." Zimmerman pointed over her shoulder. "It's fourteen blocks south of here. Right on this stretch."

"Which way did they go after they left the bar?"

"North in a cab."

"How were they dressed?"

"Jack, the young one, he had flannel on. I was teasing him about being a Kansas corn-fed type." She smiled. "I'm from Mississippi, so I was noticing those things. He had jeans, just cuffed blue jeans, I think. They were dark, anyway. And the flannel shirt, no coat. He'd come in to warm up, he told me." Her forehead wrinkled a little. "His friend who came in was wearing a giant parka, like from Alaska. White with brown fur trim around the hood."

Kailah took very blunt notes and nodded a lot, encouraging her to say anything else she remembered, but abruptly Zimmerman had finished.

"Anything else?" Kailah asked, her voice rushed in its excitement. Her feet were tapping too quickly to make a beat, but she could clearly hear a crescendo of music and she was looking forward to cranking Augustana or some other band she hadn't heard in forever. It seemed like weeks since she had heard the sounds of music. Her concentration seemed to either drown her or make her despair. She could hardly hear her music if she played it, and she was salivating with the thought of putting this case to bed.

"I guess that's it." Zimmerman sounded uneasy. "Do you think it was him? Them?"

"My partner will be comparing the DNA on that…ehm, thing in the paper to the bodies we found." She stood up quickly and gestured to an officer standing outside. "Could you find the sketch artist, please? Miss Zimmerman," she addressed the young bartender, "if you stay right here, the sketch artist will be right with you. You've been a tremendous help."

The woman's blonde pigtails bounced as she jumped up to shake Kailah's hand with an enormous grin. Though tired and fearful, she knew she had at least done her part and Kailah didn't shy away from grinning back.

Goren nearly collided with her as he returned from the forensics lab. "Well?" She asked impatiently when he caught her wrists to keep from bumping and lithely slipped around her.

"They put it on rush for a basic test against both women. We'll know by five o' clock. I want to get the sketch done and start canvassing. Where was her bar?"

"Right on this strip." Kailah replied. "Fourteen blocks south. Suspects were last seen moving north."

"I have a friend," he muttered and pulled on his coat. "You wait for the sketch and DNA. I'll be back in a couple hours."

"Why?" Kailah called as he hurried away, portfolio in his hand.

"Someone needs to stay and my friend would probably stare at your ass." He looked over his shoulder briefly and Kailah made a face before turning around. Logan, smirking at her, nodded briefly before returning to his work. Clenching fists, she found the energy for the first time in a week and a half to be annoyed with someone other than the whack-job responsible for the rape-murder.

She had been at her desk, combing through various Kansas-state records and DMV photos with the sketch of Jack Kimball/Gimball in her hand, sorting through the "no," "yes," and "maybe" piles she was carefully compiling. According to Miss Zimmerman, who Kailah had a hard time doubting, he was tall and thin with a matching face. He seemed to have a "perpetual blush," and a long, thin nose. If Kailah didn't have an overwhelming sense he was their guy, she might have found him attractive.

"Jack Kittritch." She announced out loud, and sorted him into the "yes" pile of her online perusals. He and three other "Jacks" were in there, each with thin faces, dishwater blonde hair, and good-old-boy grins.

A cell phone began to ring, and after a couple minutes, Kailah realized it was Goren's. She wondered why he hadn't taken it, and then picked it up, looking suspiciously at the caller ID. The screen read "Jessica Kelmer" and Kailah, looking nervously at the elevators, flipped the phone open.

"Goren's phone," she smiled pleasantly. "He's a bit busy now, Jessica." She wasn't sure where Detective Eames was or whether or not to use her alias, so Kailah played it safe.

After a split-second pause, a laugh barked out over the other end. "Great, now he's too busy for me. Who am I talking to?"

"A well-decorated lady of the night, unfortunately. I wish I had something better to say of your partner's character." Kailah smiled when Eames started to laugh again on the other end. "I'm your replacement, actually."

The laugh petered off and Eames cleared her throat. "I see. Where is the big goof?"

"Off with some of his friends, I guess. Ones he didn't want me around. I'm supposed to sit here for lab results or some nonsense."

"Sometimes it's better when he doesn't bring them around; trust me." Alex thought Lewis was one of Goren's sweeter friends, but it didn't mitigate the slight creep-o-zoid factor he had mastered when he called her "Detective Alex."

Kailah smiled gently and glanced briefly at the elevators again, as if expecting Goren to return already, furious to find her chatting with the infamous Alex Eames. He didn't know it, but the pressure to live up to his expectations was enormous, and it all stemmed from the woman on the other end of the line. Kailah treated this as she treated her position at MCS; smile and take no shit.

"Well, I was just trying to catch him for a couple minutes. He called me at the end of your last case and said you were waiting for testimony." Eames sat gently on the futon in her apartment.

"Everything panned out then. Now we have a serial." Kailah felt her weariness returning already. "Ross has all four of us working on it and we only _just_ got a lead today. It's not a very good one either; out-of-towners with no paper trail."

"Money is paper," Eames muttered.

"Which is why I'm pissed they've appeared to spend absolutely no money since entering New York. I'm used to lying sons of bitches, but _man…_"

Eames felt her mouth tug into another smile before she frowned and tilted her head. "How's Bobby?"

"You mean with the case, or just—?"

"Is he all right? You'd know what I'm talking about."

"Well, yeah, I guess. He's just as tired and stressed as all of us. Probably more."

"You can bet any sum of money you want. He's more stressed than that whole office put together. What's the serial?"

"Rape-murder; Bobby thinks it's an Ng and Lake sort of pairing. The similarity ends with the nature of the crime, however. The pathology is completely different and he knows it." Kailah rubbed her mouth and glanced yet again at the elevators. "The crime scenes are grisly and disgusting. Neither of us wants to see another murder, but we need one for the evidence. We need him to slip up."

Nodding quietly, Eames leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. "How's he taking the murders?"

"In stride." Kailah inhaled quickly, as if to bolster her courage, and asked, "Is there some reason you're so worried about him?"

Eames waited for a moment and drew her shoulders back, holding the phone against her ear rigidly. "Have you been inside his apartment?"

"No," Kailah replied quietly. "We've been at the office for four days straight for this case."

Eames laughed, but this laugh was just a little quieter and bitterer than the others before it. "You wait, then. Ever the gentleman, Bobby Goren is. He'll say you need to work on it and he needs the change of scenery, and you need to relax or something. He might not be so candid; I couldn't fathom. Either way, you'll know what I'm talking about."

"Why not warn me?" Kailah's breathing turned short.

"The man has no pictures of his family. He doesn't _have_ a family as far as I'm concerned. What's left sucks the life out of him, and what's gone eats at him when he's sleeping and awake. Not so much when he's awake, so he stays like that. Weeks on end, Detective. If a man is forced to love someone so much, it sort of ruins him for everyone else. He's good at finding bad guys; I find he's quite pathetic at life."

Kailah found it strange his partner would be talking about him like this, behind his back no less, but also discovered she preferred Eames' honesty and nodded briefly. "He told me about his family."

Eames couldn't expel her breath. She held it, staring at a single point on the wall with a fervor she didn't quite think she possessed, and then swallowed, knowing Detective Cairn could hear it.

"He needs you to come back safe, Detective Eames."

"I don't know about that." She replied too quickly.

"Don't think I replaced you." Kailah began to warn, her voice hushing abruptly. "I haven't. He would still rather have his partner."

"Look, I'm only saying this to help you, Cairn." Eames finally pushed it out, and she was a little embarrassed to hear the words were strained. "If he's letting you in, make up your mind now and let him throw some of the world on your shoulders, or let him know you can't bear the weight. He's had it long enough to know he might not ever get help again."

"Detective—"

Deep in her heart, Alex knew she wasn't losing her partner, and she knew she wasn't losing her friend, but the dark, tortured part of him that made the friendship and partnership so fierce and desperate, the part that made Alex feel she was really _needed_, was going to be appeased. She could feel it. Maybe it wouldn't go away, but it would definitely reach some pact with her partner's enormous, forgiving heart.

"Don't pretend to know him; I don't care what he told you. He'd hate himself forever if he hurt you forcing his family affairs on you, but that's why I call. He'd lose the will to get up in the morning if he couldn't foist it on someone else now and then."

Kailah waited briefly and then sat up army-straight. "Thank you."

"Tell him to call me when he gets back." Eames closed her phone and tossed it to the bed before reaching up and tangling her hand into her hair. She hoped he knew what he was getting himself into; as far as she could tell, it had been a while since he'd been willing to let a stranger in to pick his brain that wasn't in the interrogation room.

* * *

"He reported his secretary missing this morning." Kailah sounded tired but alert, somehow contradicting her half-lidded stare and deep, croaky voice.

"There aren't any women left in his immediate family to torture." Goren muttered as they boarded the next elevator and leaned against the far wall, achingly tired and robotic.

Kailah nodded mutely and looked at the crate of files she'd set next to her feet. She'd wanted to revise some conclusions and look over some photographs again, but, if asked, she would have lamented the decision. The last thing she wanted to do on a Friday night was look at rape-murder crime scene photos with a magnifying lens in her apartment alone. She shivered.

"We need to go over Zimmerman's sketch again and compare records." Goren muttered thoughtfully. "You have those, right?"

"Yeah. I'm loathing the idea of being in my apartment alone with these pictures." She nudged him, hoping to wake him up a little. "Say we go home, shower up, and you come over and let me in on this profiling business."

Smiling faintly, he nodded slowly. "Sure. That's easy enough."

"I take long showers," she warned as she gathered her crate and exited the elevator with him. "So I'll leave the door unlocked. Don't give anybody enough time to get in."

He shook his head, stopping her firmly. "No, don't leave your door open. Give me a key."

"I don't _have_ two keys, Goren."

"Put it on top of the door-frame, then." He looked her intently in the eye. "I mean it, Kailah. Don't leave your door open."

"All right!" She threw her free hand in the air. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Tiff."

His lip buttoned; it was nice, he hated to admit, having her back to her witty, Tiff-calling ways. It at least meant she wasn't exhausted to the point of collapse. A shower, he could see, would regenerate her. They parted ways in the garage and she crawled out of the structure toward her apartment.

Once at his apartment, Goren undressed and showered. He stood under the hot spray, staring at the drain in his shower, watching water swirl around the drain. This was his second shower in two days, and it was _lovely._ He stood under the water far too long before finally turning off the tap and drying off. He wasn't looking forward to the drive, though he knew it'd be nice to sit down with Kailah and talk. It seemed most of the time at the office had to be action or Ross would start tearing out his hair.

He didn't bother trying to look professional; pulling on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater, he zipped up a leather jacket and made another attempt to towel-dry his hair. He knew enough to know it'd be dry by the time he reached her apartment and gathered up his files to leave. Glancing around the interior of his apartment, he pocketed his cell phone and left, sighing quietly.

He found the ride mostly excruciating until he switched from AM to FM and listened to some classical-styled jazz. He parked behind Kailah's SUV and climbed out of his own, holding his portfolio and fighting a yawn. Suddenly he hoped she had coffee.

He climbed the three flights of stairs to her apartment and sought out the door. After trying the door and finding it locked, he breathed a sigh of relief and felt the top of the door frame, pleased to find her key. He knocked first, and then unlocked it, letting himself in. The bathroom in the far corner of the small apartment was still shut up, but steam was seeping through the cracks. He could smell coffee; crime scene photos were spread as far as the eye could see, and he could also smell something else. He crept into her kitchen, aware she probably didn't realize he was there yet. He thought _he_ took long showers, but then again he didn't do much other than stand under the hot spray, wash his hair, and stand under the spray again. She probably had, like all women, a routine.

There was hot coffee waiting in the machine for them, and cups sitting out. He smirked a little and helped himself. While he waited for it to cool a little, he examined the pot sitting on the stove. Whatever was inside was simmering; it smelled good. He heard a noise and jerked to look at the bathroom door. Barely tugging her sweatshirt over her navel in time, Kailah exited, still scrubbing her hair dry with a towel. She smirked.

"Found his way to dinner and coffee in one fell swoop, I see."

"What is it?"

"Beef stew. It's been on, eating up electricity, all day. It'll be delicious, I promise." She turned the heat down some more and pulled the lid off, letting waves of aroma sweep around the tiny kitchen. "Meat so tender it falls apart. My mom used to make it this way; I had her recipe when I moved out here. Don't know how it ended up in my box; must've been fate. Hand me some bowls, hey?"

"You don't have any pictures of your mother." He mentioned softly as he handed her the bowls she'd asked for.

"Not any recent ones, no. She died when I was six." Glancing up at Goren, she smiled again. "It was me and my dad against the world. Ten points if you can name that song."

Smiling, he gulped his coffee and watched her dish up before asking, "Did you play it for me?"

"A couple times."

"What other words?"

"I know what all the fighting was for."

"I give up." He replied promptly and accepted a bowl of stew with a smile. Kailah jerked her head toward the photos in the living room. "Go pull up some rug. I'll be right out."

Goren found himself a seat near the futon between a series of photographs from the first crime scene. Back when, and he hated to think it, let alone make it part of his profile, the crimes were tamer. As if there were anything acceptable about rape. He sighed as he watched the meal Kailah had prepared cooling. The air took a peculiar domestic twist and he found himself picturing this to be the family living room in the household of a couple of married cops. They'd gang up on cases together in the den, discuss rapes over dinner, and do dishes together. It was a peculiar mental image, complete with curling up in bed beside whoever it was. Kailah returned from the kitchen at last, and Goren glanced up at her.

Her sweatshirt, several sizes too big, was not NYPD issue, or OPD, but army. Her sweatpants were more like yoga pants, and when he observed her bare feet, he found she had a toe ring, a claddagh, on her second toe. She folded her legs carefully and sat cross-legged, impatiently throwing damp hair out of her face.

"Not hungry?"

"It's hot," he replied, and heard the level of stupidity in his voice and shook it out. He began to talk, and Kailah began to listen. He was teacher, she was student, and by the time he had finished his ramble, his stomach was growling and Kailah had begun to comb through the profiles again, seeing which ones matched the initial profile as well as the Kansas driver's license.

"Two matches." She announced half an hour later. "Jack Campbell and Jack Cowell."

"We're most likely looking for somebody without a home in Kansas."

"Campbell has no address listed."

"His history of violence?"

"One bar-room brawl."

"He's perfect," Goren half-murmured. "If only we knew more about the accomplice."

Kailah stood up with her empty bowl and glanced at Goren as he placed his empty bowl at his side. "More, sir?"

"I can get it—"

"I'm already up."

He smiled and shook his head, handing his bowl up to her. As she walked away, he turned to her. Somewhere along the line he might have actually been wondering how much coffee there was left and if he might snag some more, but between turning his head and seeing Kailah's familiar figure disappearing, his focus shifted.

She wasn't, at least today, walking like she knew he was looking. His face flushed and he turned back around quickly, staring at the crime scene photos.

"I should go into the Hungry-Man food business." Kailah commented as she handed him another helping. "Of course, with as much as I've been eating lately, I could also cook for 'So You're Trying to Become Anorexic' food companies and more."

He found it quite impossible to smile and felt Kailah's amicable nature start to turn to worry. "Your partner called while you were—"

"You're my partner." He replied firmly, a little louder than he'd intended. "Alex is away on an undercover. Temporary leave of absence."

Kailah waited, and seeing he was done, continued. "I answered."

Goren turned his eyes on her at last, his mouth open a little. She could tell he was trying to form the words to express his horror at the blatant violation of his privacy.

"I just thought I'd relay the message. She wanted you to call her when you had a moment." She held her hand out, offering him the land-line strung up on the wall. "Help yourself."

"What did she say to you?" He asked, something akin to shame rushing through his veins. Part of him, and he was angry to admit it, was untrusting of whatever Eames had told her.

Kailah blinked nervously and drew her knees to her chest, her chin sticking out a little. "She wanted to know how the last case closed, how you were doing. Small-talk."

"You're guilty about something, Kailah. She told you something." He turned his eyes on, and was dismayed to find a cautious sincerity in her countenance.

"Bobby—"

And, abruptly, the word was detestable. "Stop that right now." He interrupted, feeling restless and contained, as if bound against his will. "Did you tell her I told you about my mother?"

Kailah's eyes flashed away, just barely, as if she had glanced at his forehead to buy herself time.

"God _damnit—_"

"I don't care what flaming torch of justice has been shoved up your ass, Goren." Kailah inhaled sharply and Goren's ire momentarily flickered harmlessly. "I'm hundreds of miles from all my family and friends, and I'm supposed to trust you with my life. She's the only one—"

"I let _you_ in." He replied snappishly and moved to stand up. "Mistake, I'm discovering—"

"We have a mutual concern. Are you that angry I told her?" Kailah was frowning, but she hadn't shifted. She knew he wouldn't storm out without getting the last word, without laying guilt on her, or hurting her.

"Did it occur to you she might be hurt by that? We're repairing something I broke, Kailah." He glared at her, aware he was panicking, but accepting it.

Kailah looked up at him fearlessly and her shoulders relaxed. She blinked coolly, her damp hair still obscuring part of her face. The smell of jasmine shampoo was muted by home-cooked meals and coffee, but it was easily identifiable. Goren inhaled jerkily and waited.

"If she really cares about you, she'll get over it."

He moved to make a face and let her have her imaginary victory but was stymied.

"Why are you beating yourself up? Don't put that on me." She pushed herself up and stood across from him, her hand moving to her hip. She stood, unafraid, understanding him for a moment. "She doesn't blame you for sharing with someone else. She told me she wanted to make sure you were all right. She said I had to let you know whether or not you could share the weight of the world with me."

Breathing became painful. He reached and pulled his fingers through his hair and fought to find Eames' motive, or what conclusion Kailah might draw from Eames' words, and panicked to find no amount of human understanding prepared him for the impact of the actions actually happening to him.

Kailah looked at him as if weighing her options and walked closer to him, removing her hand from her hip. She touched his wrist briefly and tugged the sleeve of his sweater. He tilted his head back, wanting to draw away, but found it quite impossible. She looked up at him through her eyelashes while he stared down his nose.

"I'd love to say I'm selfless, but this is truly a selfish endeavor, Bobby. I'll be your Heracles, okay?"

Unheeding to the developing warmth in his brain, Goren's mouth jumped without his consent and muttered, "Atlas didn't hold the _world_ on his shoulders."

"And you'd be a conceited asshole if you thought the entire fucking world was on you." Kailah grinned as he tilted his face down at last and let a sheepish smile cross his features. "It's just the sky. How about you think of it like that? It _could_ be the world."

"I must have abs of steel."

"At the very least you won't need a Bow-Flex." She replied and reached, squeezing his bicep firmly.


	8. Anxiety

_Author's Note: _Thanks for the reviews, as always. I'm glad you guys are appreciating the growing appreciation between my pet Kailah and our Bobby... Watch them grow...like a Chia-Pet.

* * *

Nothing he couldn't handle, he assured himself as he rolled to his side and pulled the blankets up and over his shoulders. Nothing a little relaxation couldn't cure, and after this case was firmly closed, Ross would probably authorize forty consecutive days of vacation. For him and the new kid.

He slept fitfully, aware he was suppressing emotions to maintain his integrity and his good health. He wasn't surprised to find himself awakening from a brief dozing just shy of a minute before his alarm went off.

Kailah appeared in the bullpen just ten minutes after his own arrival with an urgent but welcome smile on her face. "Didn't Dispatch call you?"

He glanced at her. "About?"

"The rental we thought our boys might have stolen was spotted between here and the 'Pike."

He stood up, spilling papers over the floor and swept over to her before she removed her coat. "I'll drive," he pressed her coat back onto her shoulders and pushed her toward the elevators. "I'll call for GPS tracking units to meet us—"

"Meet us where?" She interrupted, digging her heels into the floor stubbornly.

"It was last seen at three this morning. I want to send patrol out and have _them_ bring them in. Why do you--?"

"If we're there to throw all the evidence in their face, we won't need the interrogation, which means no extra hours and no heartache. Do you really want to pick their brains, Kailah?" He pushed harder, grappling with her in alarm as her shoes slipped and she started to fall. She caught herself on his arm and whirled, her face flushed.

"Deep breaths, big boy. We have no idea where this car is, or where we're going. There's no GPS to track. We have nothing." She waited a moment and when he inhaled as if about to heave a giant sigh of frustration, she tugged his tie. "Not too deep, Tiff."

Without reply he dug his fingernails into his leather portfolio. "I can't just sit here."

"So we call out the patrol cars to look for our white van. They can't get far on stolen plates."

"They probably switched plates."

"Anyway, we're too far from the 'Pike to get involved before it's necessary." Kailah smiled over her shoulder as she headed toward the coat rack. "I need a couple hours to look into the eyes of evil."

_Not fair._ He sat sluggishly, reaching for the phone to call Dispatch and find a way to dispense some officers onto the New Jersey Turnpike to head off any attempts to leave the tri-state area. _Not fair at all. I've lasted exactly a month and she's already agreed to share heartache. Does she know what she's getting herself into?_

"Well?" Ross sounded impatient.

Goren covered the mouthpiece of his phone. "Calling Dispatch to get patrol out to find the van."

"Kailah?" Ross spun to find what she would be doing to make herself useful.

"Calling for a back-up arrest warrant in New Jersey for driving stolen goods." She replied curtly. "I want the bastard for every little law he broke. Littering included."

Logan approached the desks with his wits barely intact. "Who's on Press-watch?"

"You," Kailah replied shortly. "Put Wheeler on relations—send her to the 'Pike."

"Not alone—"

"I'll go with her in a little bit." Kailah offered and caught Goren's nervous stare. "It wouldn't kill me to put my knee in his groin, would it?"

Stifling a smile, Goren turned to keep his eyes from touching hers again. It was a noble cause, he knew. And when nobility tried to give way to her siren-song, he would call in the Greater Power.

There was no evidence either of the men had a weapon of any kind, at least they knew it wouldn't be anything dangerous at long-range, but Goren wrestled Kailah into a bulletproof vest and threatened to rat her out for not wearing her eye-patch if she didn't comply. The bruising was almost gone, and as they drove fretfully for the state border where the van was last spotted, she cheerfully predicted somehow getting it beaten up or knocked senseless again.

"It's the cursed eye. I came with it all black and blue, and thus I shall leave this way."

Very carefully Goren observed the side of her face, noticing the freckles and the high cheekbones.

"You nervous?" She asked, glancing briefly at his lowered chin and solemn face.

"Worried," he corrected quietly. "One is a master manipulator, and the other self-loathing. It's depressing work. One of the few jobs where personal victory and societal victory both involve the complete ruination of a person's life, character, and purpose on our planet. Sometimes I think I'm the anti-human. I deny all the quirks of humanity from manifesting. Disease remains our only natural predator."

Kailah was quiet, and then she noticed a single white car speeding along several car-lengths ahead. "There's the bug in humanity."

Goren sat up. "Speed up. I'll radio the back-ups."

Before his hand touched the radio, Logan's voice crackled over the line. "We moving in or what, big guy?"

"We're going to surround, then put the cherries out. See if we can't corral him off the road safely." Goren replied calmly.

There was a snicker, but no verbal reply, and then the radio communication ceased. Logan pulled along side them on the highway and moved into the right lane. He sped up behind the van, forcing it to move into the center lane to avoid some persistent tail-gating. Kailah pressed her foot into the gas pedal and pulled up along side it. Glancing over, she saw Goren reaching for the portable siren and light.

The one in the driver's seat was looking ahead on the road, his jaw set tightly. The other one was reaching under the front of the seat; his eyes met Kailah's, and she couldn't help but smirk. To see fear on the face of her prey was victory so close she could smell it, taste it, and revel in it. She heard the siren blare, felt the light flashing against her sensitive eye, and then she was pressing the cruiser against the van's side and before the fight began, it was surrendered.

The van pulled a few feet ahead of Goren's door when Logan swerve in front of it and pulled his gun. Kailah's ears roared; she stood up and pulled her own piece, holding it from the relative safety of the roof of the cruiser. Standing front and center, his door wide open, Goren knelt, his weapon drawn level with the older man's head. He held something like a machete to his throat as well as his young ward's. The boy looked much calmer than the man, but there was no welcome for death in his eyes, only resignation.

Foggily, as if a dream or hallucination, Kailah heard her partner speaking calmly. "What might we do to you when you're dead on the ground, Jack? You'd let him put you down like that for us to play with?"

The light of passion started to kindle in the boy's eyes.

"We know you didn't pose those bodies. You let Diana see you needed help."

_If the other one thinks the kid's going to turn on him…_ Kailah's thoughts ceased. She felt the hair on her arms prickle, and the hair on the back of her neck started to rise.

"Her," the man pointed with his chin, and Logan noticed he had indicated Wheeler. Clutching his own piece, he gritted his teeth, but left the dirty work to Goren.

"And her," the man added, indicating Kailah. His accent, she noticed as her stomach turned, was Eastern European. She felt her gun hand stutter and she lowered the weapon, taking a few steps around the car. Before she got much farther she was pinned to the hood; Goren hadn't even turned his back on the pair, but his hip had her pinioned to the hood and she was gasping for breath as if awakening from nightmare too soon.

"Don't think we'd miss you?" He asked calmly, locking eyes with the one holding the blade.

The man smiled. "Americans are obsessed with justice. We go, you have nothing for family. They only wish they could be here to watch our blood spill."

"Hey, man, that's not _my_ problem. I clean up the streets and my job is done."

"How long will you scrub to get fear off the streets, Detective?"

"It's here every day!" Kailah half-shouted, still pinned to the cruiser. "You think you're the first or the last? You're nobody. In the middle, washed out, only important to those whose lives you've ruined. Time heals all wounds, but it doesn't heal death."

The man's eyes were calm, but his lips had thinned considerably.

"We don't even know your name." Goren continued. "Who cares? You got a little pissed off with Cramer's foreign policy. We don't care about that, man."

"My name is Sergei," he spat out, sounding disgusted.

"And who's going to tell everyone the man responsible for the deaths was you?" Kailah asked, fighting to sit up a little. Goren pressed harder and she stifled a groan as his weight piled on her.

"Ball's in your court, Sergei." Goren smiled and tilted his head. "Gonna play it?"

As if disgusted, Sergei glanced at his young ward and discarded the blade, immediately reaching up to tug his short black hair. Kailah sat up with a gasp as Goren raced forward with Wheeler and handcuffed the two of them. Wheeler passed the younger one to Kailah as she passed and helped Logan with the two cruisers they had prepared for the two accomplices' transportation.

The boy, separated from his accomplice, gazed at Kailah dazedly and tilted his head. "I'm sick, ain't I? Sick enough to get a real life?"

"You're perverted, and it's a different kind of sick, honey." Kailah shoved him into a car and slammed the door. She found her hands quite shaky as she shoved her thumbs into her pockets and watched Logan pull away from the scene and down the highway, hoping to clear up traffic.

"Cairn," Goren called as he pushed the stranger into their car. "Check the van."

She paced over to the doors and threw them wide and found newspapers strewn about the interior with a bulk of them wrapped around several blunt objects on the floor. From the hair sticking from the round shape in the middle, she could guess it was the politician's secretary in segments, carefully stored in paper.

The article on the page surrounding what Kailah guessed to be the face of the head wrapped in paper was printed cleanly, though stained with a small amount of blood: _Russian civil rights on decline; Cramer asks for embargo and nuclear weapons ban._

Kailah knew that Cramer was the politician who had lost his daughter, wife, and sister-in-law to the monster, and now his secretary bore the message loud and clear. The motive was as political as the subject; the dehumanization was just as unsettling and disturbing as before. Kailah felt her bad eye swimming in weak nerves and felt a hand press into the small of her back.

"Kailah?" The voice asked, and uncaring if it was Campbell or his sick friend, Kailah sank into the arm and let her weariness, disgust, and rapture swallow her from her feet up. She fainted lightly and Goren caught her, panicking at the slight convulsion she lent to herself after sagging into his arms as a dead weight, he glanced inside the van. He knew it wasn't the gruesomeness, but the finality and the motive. She was scared for humanity just as he was scared of it. Sweeping an arm under her thighs, he carefully lifted her away from the carnage and nodded toward the remaining officers.

"Call CSU and alert the DA's office they're making a case without an interrogation as of today."

"Do we need a bus?" One asked, indicating Kailah's lolling head and half-open jaw. Her eyes seemed almost open as her eyes rolled uselessly in the back of her head.

"She'll be all right." He insisted and adjusted her gently. "Call Ross, too."

* * *

Kailah came to in the sick bay. She sat up too quickly and rested her forehead on her knuckles for a few moments, letting her blood circulate to her foggy brain. Her eye was blurry again, but she felt oddly rested. Her hair stood up on end the moment she remembered Campbell and his Russian friend Sergei were going to need interrogating eventually.

She glanced at her khaki pants and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle for a minute or so and then stood up slowly and felt her way to the thin beam of light coming from the hall.

As she opened the door and peered outside cautiously, Logan paused. He had only ventured away from his desk to check on the fax machine, but Kailah provided an interesting distraction.

"Feeling better?" He asked pleasantly, smiling at her cheekily.

"Just fine. Was the family notified?"

"You mean the secretary's family? Yeah, I called." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You don't need a doctor, do you?"

"Am I pale?" She touched her cheek and was a little miffed to find it cold and clammy. "Damnit. No offense, Logan, but your city blows."

He smiled, highly amused. "We normally don't get very many serial murders. Lots of senseless homicide, but the serials are in the Midwest. Wisconsin and Illinois."

"Dahmer and Gacy," Kailah agreed and looked at her partner's empty desk. "Where's my Sherlock?"

"He was getting worried you hadn't woken up, so he went downstairs to get something to eat. For you."

"The smell of a good slice of New York pizza would bring me out of a coma." She smiled slyly and reached out nervously, grabbing his wrist. "Mr. Helpful?"

He was a little surprised to feel her leaning so heavily on him. He knew it wasn't a physical injury. Her fingers on his wrist were a little tight, but she appeared to negotiate herself well. It was as if the world was at a slant and she just needed a hand-hold. He walked slowly with her and helped her to her seat.

"Thanks, Mike." Kailah muttered and found her messenger bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out a bottle of some pain-reliever and popped a couple of them into her mouth dry. As she swallowed, she grimaced a little and put her head in her arms. The room spun wildly around her.

She nearly jumped when she felt a warm hand on her back, but upon looking up, she stilled, seeing Goren's welcome face. He had a touch of concern on his face. He pulled her shoulders up and she winced terribly, feeling knots.

"How long have you been out here?"

"That depends; did I fall asleep?"

Shaking his head without answering, Goren left a Styrofoam container, square-shaped, in front of her and supplemented it with a tall fountain drink. He sat down across from her and waited while she sluggishly pulled open the top and stared inside.

"Pineapple and feta cheese?" She asked in a weak voice and Goren nodded. Abruptly a smile burst over her face, but he saw she was tired and it was a tiny bit her unstable fatigue. "Remind me to hug you later."

A tic in his cheek appeared quite abruptly. He had his regular faces he pulled, and he had his thinking-faces and mad-faces, but this was just a tic, not an expression. It was there only a split second, forcing half his face into a brief smile. Not understanding the appearance of a nervous tic, for that was how he defined it, he just pulled the stack of paperwork closer.

"How many days off do we get?" Kailah asked as she swallowed an enormous bite of her dinner.

"Two," he replied quietly and pointed his finger at her, though he dared not look up. "You are to rest and repair."

"I was just exhausted—don't expect it to happen again."

"I don't. I just know you'll run yourself to death using your free-time if someone doesn't warn you." He finally did glance up. "I won't be there to put you in a bullet-proof vest."

Kailah smiled as he went back to work again. She slurped some cola and sat up, feeling a little rejuvenated. "But who tucks in Bobby Goren when he has his nights off?"

"Paul Schindel."

"Who?" Kailah sounded incredulous.

"He narrates on the Biography Channel." Goren replied quietly and sent her a shy smile.

Kailah lifted her eyebrows and then smiled back. "For a minute I thought you were going to tell me—"

"No." He smiled brilliantly. "No, I've told everything there is to know about me."

_Isn't that the truth, though? What else does she need to know? The crippling fear of losing control and getting violent? Of becoming your father? How about Nicole Wallace—don't you want to tell her all about Nicole?_

"Hey, thanks for the pizza, Goren." Kailah gestured at the Styrofoam.

He bit his lip and then looked up. "It was nothing."

"So they give pizza away free." She took another bite and swallowed. "I'll send you on more pizza-runs, then."

He smiled up at her, knowing she was trying to show him she was getting back on her feet, but he couldn't find himself relaxing. He listened for any sign of another swoon or bout of vertigo or lethargy. His feet were planted, ready to propel himself out of his chair the moment her stomach over-taxed her frazzled nerves.

"I might call home tonight." Kailah continued, unaware of Goren's tight nerves. "It's been a while since I let my dad know I'm alive."

"You might want to wait until you sound a little more relaxed." He looked at what was left over from the stack he'd started upon arrival at the station and sighed.

"Are they in custody? When do they need us for--?"

"They confessed for Logan." He replied succinctly. "Same story, only the boy wants to try for an insanity plea and the Russian wants the death penalty."

"Well then…" Kailah shook her head sadly.

Goren looked up at her and cleared his throat. "What you said out there, while we had the hostage situation, it was good. Just…don't walk toward a guy with a weapon unarmed. Please, Kailah."

Kailah stood on shaky legs and pulled herself closer. Perched on the corner of his desk, she folded her arms, just smiling at him, and then leaned closer and blinked slowly. "I'm a big, grown-up girl, Tiff."

His stomach warmed and he felt his eyes quickly skim over her face, affirming her assertion, and he drew his head away, nothing written on his face.

"Thanks for taking care of me." She moved as if to lean away and stood up, moving around the arm of his desk chair. She bent and pressed her chin into his shoulder, her arms coming around to hug his shoulders. Goren froze, staring at the word "precinct" on the form he was filling in, and felt her squeeze.

"I can take it from here." She added and removed herself. She walked away to discard her dinner remnants, and when she returned, Goren was gone and there were three forms left. She took them and made her way through them slowly but efficiently, and stood up, having Ross' permission to make a departure and begin her early vacation. Just before she left the bullpen, she noticed Goren coming out of the men's room and paused, seeing his tie had been pulled loose and he'd unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He'd flung his jacket over his shoulder and stuffed his hand in his pocket. He looked sort of lonesome and preoccupied, but she knew he wouldn't be dark or bothered by it for much longer. Somehow she knew the moment he knew she was safe in her apartment and he was in his own, he'd forget about it and the weight on him would at least decrease a little.


	9. Gratitude

_Author's Note: _Mmm, yummy reviews. And I'd like to point out that I'm getting readers who write some really terrific fanfiction. I'm a fan of all of you; thanks for returning the favor and reading some of my work. Hearts and hugs for everyone!

* * *

"Hello?" Eames asked fuzzily as she sunk back into her pillow with the phone on her free ear.

"We just closed the serial."

Eames smiled to her empty apartment and rolled onto her back, tangling her fingers in her hair to hold it out of her face. Her tank top straps were bunched again, but she ignored them, her eyes open partly as she smiled for the ceiling. "Good. How many days off?"

"We had yesterday and today. Tomorrow it's back to work."

"How's the new kid?"

Goren seemed to hesitate and then shrugged soundlessly. "Ehh, I don't know, Eames. She got sort of worn down by the last case, but we'll see how she bounces back. She was almost back to her old self when she left the building on Wednesday."

Eames nodded and closed her eyes again, loosening her hand's grip on her hair. "She and I spoke for a couple minutes, I think Monday or Tuesday."

"She told me." Goren replied softly.

"She tell you what we said?"

"Yes."

"I'm not upset."

He had the overwhelming urge to draw his knees to his chest, and, not victim to scrutiny this time, he indulged, resting his forehead against his knees, the phone still jammed against his ear mercilessly. He dare not respond.

"For whatever reason, you've let her in. I'm not upset; I'm happy for you. I'm worried for her, I'll be honest, and I know you've never done this before, but if it keeps you happy and healthy, it's good, okay?"

"You're talking like she's…" He swallowed and winced. "Permanent, or more than my partner."

"You know why we're more than partners?" She asked quietly.

"I trust you."

"You have to trust your partner, Bobby. It's practically in the insurance waiver." She sat up abruptly. "You're a man and I'm a woman. I think you're an attractive man, and a polite guy, and I wish I could give some of my boyfriends manner lessons from Goren the Great, but the thought of sleeping with you has _never_ crossed my mind."

He considered the words, and found them to be depressingly similar in his case. Eames was a beautiful woman, and intelligent, and he could go as far as to say he loved her and would protect her, but somewhere in all that cacophony, she had slipped past his radar, or maybe avoided it altogether. It was as if she had become so important to him she ceased to be necessary on a physical level at all. Her voice was enough, her presence, though not visual, was enough.

"It took me years to get the full story out of you, and I still don't have it." Eames continued, jolting Goren from his introspection. "I'm just as tough on you as I am on myself. We work well because we judge each other as equally as we judge ourselves."

When Bishop had been there, he'd missed Eames. He'd wanted her there with him somehow, roping in the bad guys, understanding his excited half-unfinished sentences, and trusting him with a profile and prayer. Even her sarcastic comments were well-missed with Bishop's flat-voiced admissions of disgust. Everything he did repulsed her.

Kailah was intrigued, amused even. It was an Eames-like trait. There were things she had all to herself, however. The music she needed to still her fidgeting, the way she walked and held herself, her army background, and her ready-to-learn attitude seemed to roll her up into a very neat package, ready for Goren's tutelage.

"Bobby?"

"Sorry," he replied out of habit and unfurled a little, staring at his feet. "Lost my compass."

"Look, I got us lost in the first place." Eames sighed and lifted one leg and tucked it under herself a little and rested her chin on her knee. "When I got going on all that, I didn't want to get so into it."

"I was just realizing I felt the same way about you." Goren replied softly. "But I'm worried your resignation isn't because you think Kailah must do something for me you can't, it's something else."

Eames smiled gently. "When I come back, Goren, you are _my_ partner. I won't work with anyone else. I could talk to you over the phone for my soul, but for my job, I miss my partner."

_We're far from healed, aren't we? Somehow we're right on the cusp, but there's an unbridgeable gap._

"What I meant to get at before…it was about Kailah."

Goren's ears perked and he sat up a little taller, gazing around his apartment wearily. "Yeah?"

"I think you need someone like her. For some reason you wanted to tell her and she wanted to hear it. That's rare for you, and I don't think your…jobs should really get in the way." Her voice sounded a little uncertain. "Just, don't treat her like a brain and nothing more. She might be proud to be keeping up with you, but it's not all she wants. I talked to her."

"You're telling me to love her."

"No, I'm telling you not to feel like Prick of the Year if you start to grow attached. I won't break. I'm a big girl."

"Grow attached, Eames?" He heard his voice rising a little.

Eames sighed in frustration. "Yes, Goren."

He shook his head and lifted an eyebrow. "I can't believe—"

"What's so unbelievable?" Eames interrupted forcefully. "That you might have found somebody worth caring about, or that she's your partner?"

"I can't believe _you._" He replied in a tight voice.

"Believe it." Eames replied in the tone he knew signaled the end of a taxing conversation. "You have my number; call when you just can't stand it anymore."

It seemed almost routine to him now. One would call, they would talk about recent happenings, and the past, unbidden and unwanted, would creep in and the affection and trust they had for one another would somehow destroy something they had. His pride and arrogance and her selfless concern, in this case, had ruined a perfectly good conversation. But it was still Alex who kept hanging up, who kept getting fed up, and kept pushing back twice as hard as she got it. Goren knew she was just elbowing her way back to self-respect, but he was getting bruises on his ribs. If he didn't think she'd flat-out knee him in the groin, he'd try to subdue her and hug her arms to her sides and tell her to chill out. But she would not be told such things; she would swallow her pride and accept responsibility, but not until he was fully aware of everything he had done.

He considered hurling his phone at the wall again, but stopped just short of doing so. Leaning back and resting his head on the wall behind him, he sighed and stood up slowly before falling face-first onto his bed. In moments he was asleep.

* * *

It was a Saturday morning off, and Goren was standing next to his sofa watching the TV listings flickering by. He wondered, only briefly, if he should call his mother or just the hospital to warn them he'd be visiting the next morning as usual. It was a rare, slow week. One case solved, the other passed off to Homicide. 

Goren picked up his cordless phone and dialed the hospital. A nurse picked up and he requested the cancer ward's head nurse to discuss visiting hours, and was quickly put on hold.

He was pacing, predicting the conversation between the nurse, the doctor, and himself. The post-surgery check-up had gone smoothly, but they were keeping a tight watch on her throat in case anything else cropped up. As he paced back and forth, he heard a noise on his door like a quiet knock. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 12:37 in the afternoon.

He opened the door, the phone still at his ear and blinked at Kailah in surprise. She was not in her usual office clothes; she had instead chosen a pair of low-riding jeans with a gaping hole in the knee, a thin t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. Her hair was down and swept off in a side part. She smiled, and he noticed she was holding a pizza box.

"I won't stick around; don't look so freaked out. I doubt your apartment's a mess, anyway." She held out the pizza. "You lied; that vendor was putting up a dollar twenty-five a slice." She clucked her tongue and winked. "Enjoy, Tiff."

He opened his mouth to reply and heard the doctor on the other end pick up. "Mr. Goren?"

"I was just calling to schedule tomorrow." Goren replied, thrusting the pizza onto the nearest counter. Kailah, paused uncertainly in the doorway, was accosted by Goren, who grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking away before he could thank her. "I want to make sure tomorrow morning is going to be okay."

"Always is, Mr. Goren. Her last scan was still clean, so we're hoping the chemo will start to kick in a little more. Your mother, I'll warn you now, isn't very pleased with the hair-loss."

"Is she going to be sedated?" He asked, almost forgetting he had Kailah only inches away, hearing every word.

"The up in the dosage keeps her sedation and medications low. She's been volatile the last few days."

"She's always volatile." He muttered unhappily and released Kailah's wrist, jerking the door shut as she stood in his entryway, still and quiet.

Faintly he could hear the doctor being paged. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm going to call her and let her know and I'll see you tomorrow." The doctor replied with a farewell and Goren hung up. He glanced at Kailah, feeling embarrassment finally settling in, but a fierce sense of pride welled up and he stood up a little taller.

"Thanks, Kailah. For this; you didn't have to." He played with the buttons on the phone and held it up. "One more call, okay?"

She just nodded, mute.

The room phone rang just once before it was snatched up and his mother's voice came over the line, scratchy and tired. "Yeah?"

"It's Bobby, Mom."

"Where the hell are you?" She asked, sounding upset now. "Why am I still _here?_"

"I'm coming in tomorrow morning, like I always do, Ma." He sighed gently. "Nine o' clock, like I always do. Never missed one, never."

"Yeah, so kind of you to visit me in this prison where you've hidden me." She half-gasped and seemed to lose some of her energy. "Where is your brother? Where?"

"I don't know, Ma." He felt his voice getting small. "He hasn't called in a long time."

"I'll bet he's just busy figuring out a way to get me well and out of here."

"I bet." Goren replied in an uplifting tone and tilted his head. "Are you going to be all right just until tomorrow when we can talk? See how you're doing and all that?"

"I hate it here, Bobby."

"I know, Ma. I'm sorry." He ran his fingers over his mouth and hunched his shoulders. "As soon as I can, I'll get you back where you want to go."

Sighing in a brief moment of delusion-free thinking, Frances Goren smiled tenderly and Goren heard the change in her voice. "Tomorrow, boy."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ma." He hung up and played with the button on the phone a moment before turning and placing it on the counter.

Kailah waited a moment and then pulled up the zipper on her hoodie a little. "How's she doing?"

"Better," he replied and smiled briefly before indicating the pizza. "You were in the neighborhood?"

"I have a cousin the area who's showing me around." She indicated the door. "He's running some errands, so I thought I'd stop in and pay you back."

"Thanks." He reached and touched the back of his neck uncertainly. "Did you want to stay and have some? I shouldn't have it all myself."

"If you want."

He nodded, but it was hard to distinguish the movement. When he took two plates from the cupboard beside the sink, she relaxed and removed her shoes, walking with him over to the living room area where a piece on the Mackinaw Bridge was showing.

Kailah waited until his mouth was full before asking, "So Ross was right when he said your friends were the Discovery Channel and the National Geographic Channel?"

"One day I'll introduce you to Lewis." Goren vowed as soon as he could talk without food in his mouth. "He'd love you."

Smiling, she sat in simple silence with him. When the bridges stopped showing and the show switched gears to spiders and bugs, she started to squirm and start up conversation.

Unable to avoid thinking about the man in the kitchen, his shoulders slumped and his confidence shaken, Kailah turned and looked at him. "Does anyone else stop in to see your mother regularly?"

Goren looked at his plate and then over at Kailah, his lips pursed a little. "Sometimes Lewis will go with me. She remembers him from our high school days; he likes making her laugh."

Kailah was quiet, and then looked at the screen and made a face, seeing a huge tarantula being spotlighted.

Goren was almost relieved she hadn't asked if his mother might want to meet someone new, someone like Kailah. The truth was he could never be sure. Some days she might have more sense of embarrassment about her and realize he'd brought someone to see her in her twilight and sickness, and other days she pined for someone with fresh ideas and awareness to visit. He just couldn't win on his own, but he knew the terrible burden he'd be placing on her if she spoke to her on the phone just once, or visited just once.

"When should you meet back up with your cousin?" He asked when she'd been there for a couple hours.

"I have about fifteen minutes before I should go get my car and head on back." She looked at the empty pizza box and touched her stomach, groaning. "I can't imagine how you'd feel if you ate the whole thing."

The History Channel, the new favorite once Kailah grew disgusted with spiders and the like, was airing a "History of Sex" special, and Kailah insisted he not change the channel. He waited while she shook her head at the talk of the Japanese sex books.

"They were called pillow books. They talk about them being men's empowerment, and they may have _thought_ it was men's empowerment, but a series of books all dedicated to a woman's orgasm isn't made for _men._" Kailah stood up glanced at Goren. "See you Monday?"

"Monday," he agreed as he too stood up to walk her out.

Before she reached the door and started wrestling with her shoes, she gave him an amused look.

"What?" He asked as he leaned against the door jamb and watched her stuffing her feet into her sneakers.

"I was just hearing my dad's voice in the back of my head." She adopted a low, gruff voice and held her hand up like a faux mustache. "I can't believe you, Kai. You can't say 'orgasm' in front of a man. You'll give him all the wrong ideas."

Goren smiled at her and then scuffed his feet over the carpet, weighing his words. "Well," he decided at last, "in all fairness, the woman's orgasm was designed to give up her essence, and a man would be empowered by holding his essence in and not giving it to the woman."

"But then—"

"But then they adopted Confucianism and the pillow books were sort of lost for a while." He glanced up as Kailah grinned at him. "I don't know if those were the wrong ideas your dad was worried about, but that's what I thought about."

"You poor, poor creature." Kailah smiled and moved toward the door.

She jumped slightly when a large hand crashed against the door jamb and snapped the door shut before she got it open wide enough to admit even her own foot. She stared at the hand a moment and then saw the tendons relax. When she turned toward Goren, she saw he had a blank curiosity on his face.

"You mean to say you've been on a date since you've arrived in the city? You've found _time_ for that?"

Some primitive female instinct kicked in and Kailah, smiling demurely tilted her head to one side and lowered her chin a little. "Just a couple times. Friendly guys."

Goren lifted his eyebrows. "You must know the secret of time-travel."

"Almost."

He hesitated, shifted his weight, and then removed his hand from the door frame and pulled it open for her. "See you Monday, Kailah."

"Bye, Bobby." She stuck her hands in her jeans pockets and darted out the door. He watched only for a moment and then ducked inside, pressing his back against the door he'd just accidentally slammed. His eyes were wide, locked on the far wall. He considered sinking along the door and burying his face in his knees again, but just before his legs gave out, he found the energy to feign interest in the "History of Sex," which had just come back from commercial break.

* * *

"Something wrong?" Kailah asked quietly, trying to be subtle as she sorted crime scene photos into piles of relevant material.

Goren's face seemed to twitch again. He looked up at her helplessly and shrugged, wordless again. As he handed her more paperwork, he began to make a more concerted effort to appear engaged, but failed dismally, even by his standards.

She watched him a moment, aware he was behaving very deliberately, and then leaned over the photos and managed to insert her face under his as he hunched over the desk, stooped over it in a standing position.

"Yeah, nothing's wrong or should I be worried you haven't spoken to me since I got here?"

"You're on my photos."

"Sorry, Sir." She stuck her tongue out and slid back to her space and fanned out five photos. "These are showing blood spatter, but it's not consistent. One isn't from the same crime scene as the others."

"Same here." He sighed in disgust and sat down.

Kailah pursed her lips and then observed the pictures again. "Wait, was your discrepancy on that wall, too? With the paint difference?"

"Yeah, it's shades lighter—"

"The wall is lighter in this photo, too." She showed him a photo supplied by the family taken just three days before the murder. "They painted the wall the wrong color."

Goren tilted his head. "To cover something up?"

Kailah shifted and stood up, pulling her tank top down and buttoning her blazer top. She stood, her hands on her hips, and noticed Goren's face had started up with its tic again. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He nodded and turned to sit down. As he collapsed into it, Kailah touched his shoulder and passed by, headed toward the file room.

"Goren, where's your partner?" Ross asked as he entered the bullpen.

"File room." He mumbled in reply and looked up wearily as Ross sat on the corner of her desk. "She has a visitor at the front desk."

Goren had not met the cousin Kailah had spoken of, but he knew he was a man and lived near the city. With the youth and beauty of the specimen loitering around the front desk, waiting for a visitor's pass, he hoped it was family, and quickly felt the tic in his cheek return.

"Need an aspirin?"

"No," Goren replied in a tight voice. "It's been acting up since the Cramer case. I just need to think. When I'm not distracted and I can think, it sort of goes away." As if to prove it, he rubbed the affected muscle firmly and it calmed a little. He tried grimacing and yawning to get it to relax and stretch out, but with every footstep the visitor made toward his desk, his mind left the photos, the motives, and the crime scene. Pretty soon he was staring at the approaching man in the glossy reflection of the crime scene photo.

Kailah's face was down when she returned from the file room. She was scanning the miniscule records of the family but noted an interesting embezzlement charge which was dropped when the owner of the suing company had passed away. In all the financial confusion, the allegation was dropped and the charges dismissed.

"There you are!" The man cried out as she approached. Kailah glanced up and her eyes widened. "Eric told me you were in town."

She put the papers down and moved to hug him. Goren found his body had relaxed in a way it hadn't in several weeks, and he lowered the papers he was holding and observed, his face a complete blank.

"They told me you got into Yale and that's why you—"

"I drove over; don't worry about it." He headed off her soft sounds of protest. "I haven't seen you since the wake."

Kailah tilted her head a little. "That's right…well, I can take lunch in twenty minutes if you want to have a seat."

"Sure," he accepted a chair and sat beside her, wincing at the photos she had gathered. "You're working homicides out here?"

"I worked them back in Portland, they just weren't this often as I remember." She sighed a little and gestured to Goren. "Tiff, this is my kid cousin, Jordan. Jordan, this is Bobby Goren, my temporary reassignment here in New York City."

Jordan seemed to hesitate, and then offered his hand, which Goren shook briefly. They observed the other for a minute and then Jordan, obviously quite a bit younger than Kailah, touched her knee. "Hey, did Eric tell you where he was going today? He wasn't at the apartment and I had to buy gas to get here."

"You'd rather pay for a taxi from his place?" Kailah asked as she continued to sort; Goren gritted his teeth and started to work again. For a minute it seemed as though he'd lost his ability to focus. He'd been distracted by her and couldn't function, whereas she could participate in a conversation and still manage to do her job. It was getting a little ridiculous.

She stood up again and told Jordan to stay put. Instead of buttoning her blazer again, she simply left it open, and as she breezed by Goren's desk, she smiled.

_Nothing I can't handle._ He assured himself endlessly, the words becoming his mantra as the hours slipped away. Kailah left for lunch, returned from it without Jordan, and left again at the end of the night; he hardly remembered leaving himself, but there he was, seven in the morning, back on the chain gang and aware if he didn't handle himself, someone else was going to notice.

* * *

"Hey, Ma." Goren entered the hospital room some Sundays later and sat beside her bed, smiling when she offered him a rare, carefree smile of her own. "Having a good morning?"

"Someone sent me these flowers." She gestured to a large display of tulips. "Spring flowers. They're beautiful, aren't they? I can't half-pronounce the name of course…"

He frowned a little and held his hand out. "May I see the card?"

"Sure; good luck." She handed it over and leaned her nose into the tulip blossoms again and inhaled gently, a smile spreading over her face. "Funny how the little things really brighten up a room, isn't it? They just threw out your flowers yesterday…"

Goren stared at the card. _"Hi! Nice to meet you. My name is Kailah and your son told me you liked tulips. Hope you enjoy."_

"Kailah," he informed his mother aloud. "She works with me. While my partner is in Denver."

"Oh?" She drew her eyes out of the festive yellow and orange flowers and smiled again. "She's very sweet. It was awfully nice of her to think of me, don't you think? Did you tell her about me or something?"

"I told her I visited my mother." He replied dully. "Did you want to meet her?"

"Well, sure, if you think she'd like to come all the way out here."

She really was in a docile mood. Goren turned his head and looked in his mother's eyes, seeing a calmed beast. He glanced at the tulips in wonder and pondered what on Earth Kailah was thinking. There was no anger, though. The curiosity and wonder seemed to stem from something else, and he clutched a hand to his stomach.

"Your friends really aren't half-bad, Bobby my boy." His mother smoothed her blankets fondly. "That Lewis is very well-behaved now that he's grown up, and this one is very sweet."

"Yeah, I've done all right." He drew himself away from his over-dramatized agony and touched her hand briefly.


	10. Revelations

_Author's Note: _Ohmigad! Read on!

* * *

Kailah's updated security pass had been left on her desk. Before that she had been using a visitor pass to get into certain levels of confidential paper files, but now she had a clip-on ID and she was looking forward on using it. She had only left it a moment to refill her and Goren's coffee cups, but when she returned, Goren was studying it carefully.

"Sirena? That's your middle name?"

"Yeah," she snatched the card back and fastened it to her shirt lapel.

"You have two very odd names." He informed her quietly. "One is Israeli, and that's what, Greek?"

She nodded, grinning. "Correct. Kailah is Israeli for 'laurel crown' and Sirena as in the sirens of Greek mythology."

"Well, even Cairn is a first name, if you look at older English or Gaelic heritage." He piled some papers together and began to talk with his hands a little. "A cairn was pile of stones in memorial to a fallen warrior."

"My ancestors were graveyard keepers." She smiled and leaned closer. "I'm queen of the mermaids, and I lure unwilling soldiers to their demise in my graveyards. Every name tells a story, right?"

He glanced at his own security pass and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Robert O. Goren…"

"Robert's an easy one, Goren I'm not sure about, and we all know what the 'O' stands for." She wagged her eyebrows.

"Are we going to discuss Japanese pillow books again?"

"No, it stands for ostensible. How the hell do you get off discussing pillow books?" She shot him an incredulous look and raced up to the fax machine to grab their records for two out-of-state suspects.

When she returned, she noticed Goren had clamped his hand over his left cheek and was scowling. Finally, forcing his face to relax a good deal, he pursed his lips and looked at her, allowing himself to stare into her eyes emotionlessly.

"Thanks. My mom really liked those tulips."

"Eric works in a hospital south of here." She murmured, averting her eyes and shuffling papers. "He said they have a policy; flowers in the room until they wilt, then it's in the garbage. I figured they'd be browning after a week."

"Thanks." He repeated and rubbed his cheek, staring at Kailah's down-turned eyes. "She really loved them. She said they brightened the room."

Kailah nodded firmly. "I'm glad, then."

"She'd like…" He felt his fingers creep over his mouth and he wanted to chew them, but it had been literally twenty years since he'd chewed his fingers out of anxiety or worry.

"What, roses next time?" Kailah finally lifted her eyes and smirked.

Panicking, Goren felt his hand removed itself from his face. "She'd love to meet you to thank you in person."

Without missing a beat, Kailah kicked her smile up a notch. "If it's all right with you, I'd love that."

"Wednesday is the day before she gets her chemo treatments. She's got the most energy and is in the best mood." He watched her reaction and found her looking at her desk calendar to make sure she had time.

"Yeah, that sounds great. Which hospital?"

"I can take you." He replied immediately. "I'm going to go out there and make sure she has the things she needs for the next day. She's weak after the treatments and if I don't give her things to do, she starts pulling her hair out and calling me." His mouth continued as if this were utterly normal—utterly _mundane._ "It upsets her just as much to throw a tantrum, but if I give her something to do, sometimes she forgets the tantrum part and just gets tired."

After a few moments, Kailah clasped her fingers together and beamed at Goren happily. "I'm excited now. Your mom must be a hoot."

"On a good day, yes. She's very smart, witty, engaging." He wagged his finger as he shuffled more papers uselessly. "On a bad day, she's abrasive, critical, and obnoxious."

"Sounds like any woman scorned to me." Kailah snorted and leaned in close. "Pastrami on rye, sir? It's my turn for the lunch run."

"Yeah, but—"

"Antacids, I know." She picked her wallet out of her messenger bag and smirked. "Remind me to make you some vegetarian chili before I go back to Portland. You ought to realize there are better things than greasy New York meats and cheeses."

"I've been out-of-state, and my favorite place remains my urine-stained city, thank you." He felt her ruffle his hair and he ducked, glancing over at her in surprise. "What's this?"

"Careful; don't let me see your temper. We have to let it build back up for the interrogation."

"What interrogation?" He frowned and stacked the papers he'd spent the past five minutes shuffling around.

"We're going to catch this guy." Kailah indicated the printed sheets. "He'll be back in the country tomorrow. I'll stop in the judge's office for a search warrant and we'll nail the bastard in time to visit your mom."

He smiled, but after she spun away down the hall and made it to the elevators, he realized just what had happened. She was in deep, far too deep, and the moment his mother saw her, there were only two options. She would either fawn all over her and be gracious and loving, or she would be biting and cruel. Either way, Kailah would see something in him, either inciting pity or pride, and he grew more emboldened as time went on. Not only that, he sighed in frustration, but it had been what felt like weeks since he'd lost himself in his work.

Normally he could lock himself in his apartment and stare at photos or transcripts and become the killer. See what the killer saw. He could think like the killer without falling over; now the magic was paused. At the office, she didn't do anything in particular, but she was in the corner of his mind, peering over his shoulder, waiting to see his genius, and his genius was becoming increasingly gun-shy in her presence. He couldn't concentrate. He was _growing attached_ and Wednesday he would either have her within reach or have to start over. Professionally, one was a fate worse than death, and personally, the other was a devastating blow to a phlegmatic and uncertain social self-worth.

When he noticed ten minutes had passed and he'd neither moved a single sheet of paper nor thought about the case, he drew himself to his feet and found his hands shaking and his palms sweating. He found himself walking quietly and calmly toward Ross' office, and when he slid inside, he shut the door and blinked when Ross glanced up.

"Bobby," Ross acknowledged and finished with some paperwork. "What's on your mind?"

"I need a new partner." He blurted and looked away, feeling like a giant kid in the principal's office.

Ross' eyebrows lifted. "You're kidding, right? What'd she do, call you 'Tiff' one too many times?"

And how did he explain how each day changed the meaning of that name? It was a teasing remark, an endearment, and so much more depending on context. _Ross wouldn't understand, _he concluded, and shook his head, biting his lip tightly. "I just need a new partner, Captain."

"You know you have to fill out the paperwork and write a letter." Ross reached hesitantly for the binding request forms. "What's going on, Bobby?"

He shook his head and looked at the floor dejectedly. "I can't concentrate anymore."

"Is it the music?" Ross seemed amused. "For all your quirks, you'd think you'd be a little more tolerant—"

"I love the music. I love all of it." He muttered bitterly and then felt himself flushing as he lifted his eyes to look into Ross'. "I'm just heading off the rest of it."

"You two haven't…you know?"

"No." He stood up a little straighter. "I bend rules; I wouldn't break them. I play fair."

"This isn't a game to you, though." Ross glanced at Goren warily and then dug in the drawer for the paperwork. "Is your partner returning these…?"

"I don't propose to know a single thing about Kailah." Goren replied smoothly and moved to accept the paperwork.

Ross held it away a moment longer. "You understand when you fill these out, we have to place Kailah somewhere else in the department. Her contract is in Major Case. Your merits are within warrant, but it's still…can you give me a waiting period to work it out or see if it's possible, anyway?"

Goren nodded somberly and finally felt his fingers close around the sheets. He stared at the top of the sheet and felt a stab of fear. He had never found out about Eames' request for transfer, but she had withdrawn hers. He had enough time, then, to figure out a way to co-exist with, and he hated calling it this, a crush. His face started flushing again.

"Take your time with those, Bobby." Ross sighed and picked up the phone.

Nodding, Goren slipped back out the door and to his desk. He shut the papers into the very back of his portfolio to fill out at home and found the burden on his mind alleviated. Now assured he was doing the right thing, he focused on the transcripts and formulated a plan to get the confession out of their guy.

* * *

He was torn over the impending issue. Goren had allowed two weeks to pass since first alerting his captain of his desire to have a new partner, and things had only gotten worse. Kailah seemed mostly oblivious to the havoc she caused, and when he got too distracted to focus, she reeled him in somehow. It sated him, and when he was calm, he was sure she was flirting with him, or babying him, or somehow coddling him. When she had met his mother, she'd seen the gambit.

Frances Goren started off a little warmer than usual and stayed that way a little longer than usual, but then she tired and Kailah insisted they leave, and they'd made it all of three feet toward the door when she started muttering in a delusion and reaching for things to throw. Goren took the brunt of the attack, keeping her from hurting anyone or causing much of a fuss, but the damage was done. Kailah had plastered a smile on her face and said in an earnest voice his mother was a gem. He hadn't believed her and had actually snorted a little and Kailah's smile had faltered.

"She tried as hard as she could in there, Bobby. I really like her."

He had successfully subdued the urge to hug her tightly, press her up against the nearest wall, and groan in relief. Someone who had met her loved her and understood the condition. Not as he did, but from a fresh set of eyes. If he wasn't careful, he was going to _love_ this woman before he got himself free of her.

Moving quietly, Goren glanced up as Ross got off the phone in his office and sighed. He paused when Ross left his office and made a beeline for Goren.

"They don't have anything for her at MCS. They're talking maybe cutting her contract a little short. We'd pull in Bishop, or maybe ask Barek to make a visit." Ross sounded sort of dampened, as if he'd given up talking Goren out of it. "Is it a threat, Bobby? Is it really?"

"Yes and no," Goren sighed, feeling embarrassed and childlike again. He hated this feeling and wanted some conclusion to surface to give him solace, but it dragged on and on, and each time he had to justify himself. "She distracts me. I can't get the work done and it's unfair we have to rely on her so much. But I'm a grown man and I should figure out how to—"

"You're afraid of dealing with it, Goren? Mr. Confrontational?"

He was quiet.

"You think she'll be…less than understanding?"

And, just like in high school, he felt it. He didn't think she'd be disgusted or enthusiastic, there was just such room for either reaction. He'd let her _in,_ he'd let her see his face naked and bare of all masks and excuses, and she'd either love him back and disarm him forever, or be disgusted with him and let him hide behind his books and hobbies like a good many of the others before her. Only this one worked with him. This one had Eames' approval. This one, he swallowed as he observed his feet, liked his mother. It was as if she had thrown open his closet of skeletons and hugged one, crying out, "Oh, this one is just so beautiful, Bobby!"

His body and mind ached. He sat down and shrugged and felt a hand press into his shoulder. Kailah sat on the edge of his desk. "Hey, big guy. No sleep again?"

"No, same as usual." He replied mechanically and tilted his head, looking at his papers. "I need some fresh air, I think. I can't concentrate."

"I know. Eileen is wearing a V-neck sweater straight to her navel." Kailah teased and Goren couldn't help but crack a smile. As he stood, Kailah patted his shoulder and slid over to her own desk. Ross watched Goren loosen his tie as he made his way to the elevators and sighed. "Detective Cairn?"

Kailah glanced up, knowing the tone as regretful reprimand. She was in trouble. "Yes?"

"My office, please?"

Goren stood outside 1PP and considered buying a pack of cigarettes, but quickly turned down the idea and lifted his finger to his mouth. A callous, most likely from rubbing the tip against hardcover book edges while reading, was starting to peel from the lack of use. He stared, and then stuck the finger in his mouth a little, and chewed on the callous, not caring he was giving up.

He had been outside for about twenty minutes when he heard Logan and Wheeler approaching from the garage area.

"We could get a subpoena. Or the possibility remains we could get the judge to sign a search warrant. We would find what we wanted either way." Wheeler was mumbling.

Logan had just opened his mouth to reply when the doors slammed open; they stepped away from the flurry of blonde hair and watched it march straight over to Goren and pull his shoulder. One look at Kailah and he _knew_ Ross had told her. The betrayal didn't have time to sink in; a myriad of emotions were on Kailah's face, and Goren didn't know which to soothe or condemn first. He just worked his mouth wordlessly, finding no excuses and no courage, and the myriad on her face dissolved to one, furious expression. Her wrath manifested in form of fist, and before he could plea she listen, she had landed a solid right hook against his left cheek and he wheeled and rested his back against the building, looking at her in a daze. Her previous captain had been correct; her punches were nearly fatal alone.

"Real fucking smart, Bobby! What did I do? Huh? You want to explain what I've done so bad I have to be sent back to _Portland?_"

He looked at her miserably and touched his swelling cheek and shook his head. "Ross said he'd find you someplace here until—"

"The board reviewed my contract, asswipe." She clenched her fists and teeth and stood, her fists pressed against the sides of her head. She made a noise like she couldn't find words to express her betrayal and ire. "I work with one Robert O. Goren until his partner returns from undercover. He requests a transfer, they owe me nothing. I go back to Portland, back to mundane suburbia, and the biggest case I'll see this year is a florist found floating in the Pacific."

"Kailah—"

"Ross tells me you filed two weeks ago, Bobby. You can't tell me this? I thought we worked together." Her rage seemed to fade an instant, and her voice grew soft and vulnerable. "You're a lying bastard, you know that? I thought you might actually be sweet. You were always a gentleman, but that's learned behavior, isn't it? God, I've—"

"Kailah!" His breathing turned ragged and he nearly allowed his eyes to sting. It hurt to hear her say she suspected he had been utilizing some 'learned behavior' on her in order to put up a façade. "We really _were_ doing well, I just…"

"You just can't concentrate anymore." Kailah parroted. "He said he wasn't at liberty to tell me why, but you just couldn't handle me anymore and he was sorry."

Goren felt like everything was crumbling around him very slowly. He watched from an outsider's point of view and saw a lover's quarrel. She doesn't know why he wants her to leave, and he can't tell her because it's just too humiliating. That was it, then; his pride was on the line and he couldn't stand the thought of laying his dignity out with it. She had already forced humility to show its head, but she wanted more from him and he couldn't give it. The thought of giving it made his heart pound and his head swim.

Kailah looked up at Goren's tortured face and knew it wasn't enough to know see he was aching over this, too. After all, she had seen him broken, empowered, arrogant, even, and it could all be a lie. The ache in his eyes could be as fake as the bond she had felt developing.

She felt her lips thin and Goren's eyes momentarily flitted over to watch. "So? You going to tell me why you just can't have me here anymore? What I've done that's so bad I can't even stay in New York anymore?"

"I didn't want you to leave New York, Kailah." He muttered quietly, and felt himself paddling clumsily for sanity so he could find a way out of the quicksand. Instead he sank faster and he dearly wished Eames would appear and guide him through this. She would know how to calm Kailah down and convince her it was all a misunderstanding.

"You're missing the point, Goren." Kailah's voice shook a little as she reached and seized his tie. Yanking, she pulled him nose-to-nose with her and stared at his blank brown eyes. "What did I _do?_" She had expected and hoped her voice would be more unforgiving and cruel. Instead she heard a shaky, hurt voice spill out, begging for some reason in the decision which seemed so sporadic and random.

Mustering up the courage, Goren only managed to spew the truth masked in ambiguity. "N-nothing, Kailah. You didn't do anyth-th-thing."

"Bullshit."

"I muh-mean it." He stuttered out and felt his cheeks redden. _For God's sake, Goren. You're over forty years old. Get a grip; this is why you had to do this. She drives you crazy._

"So help me—" Kailah's voice turned from watery to hateful in an instant and Goren's sympathy sensors shivered unpleasantly. He could tell she was hurt and confused. He knew if he could somehow find the courage to explain, maybe she would—

She watched his face twitch and then his eyes turned away. She had witnessed the fear sweep over him again, and instead of allowing him to melt, she removed the heat from under him and observed at a distance, finding the weakest point to crack. The man didn't like being figured out, and he wasn't too much of a puzzle anymore. She had filled in big holes in her time with him. She could figure him out.

"Did you think I wasn't taking my job seriously enough?" Kailah asked, her voice soft and somewhat understanding.

Goren's eyes flashed over to her. "No, Kailah. You're a good—"

"Was it sophomoric of me to be so disturbed by the rape-murder serial? Did I lose your faith then?"

"No, Kai—"

"Was it too forward of me to be nice to your mother? To care about that? Too much?"

For a while Goren had forgotten Logan and Wheeler were standing nearby, but when she said that, he knew his cover would quickly be blown. He didn't say anything at first, but his voice lowered and he replied, "I appreciated that. She really likes you, Kailah. It wasn't any one thing, okay?"

"Well, it must have been _something._" She continued, finally loosening her fingers from his tie. She stood at arm's length, her arms folded tightly. "Did your partner have anything to do with this?"

"Eames?" He asked in surprise. "Nuh-no!"

Kailah was quiet, and he felt his heart start pounding frantically. _No, no, no, please, no—_

"It's not work-related?" Kailah's voice interrupted his mantra quietly.

He wanted to lie, he wanted to speak, but all he could do was shake his head firmly, trying to talk. Logan and Wheeler, still with jaws agape, still watching, saw a great man turning to ruins at the words of a woman. She stared at him coolly, waiting for his move, but when he offered none, she stepped closer.

"Does it have anything to do with your mother?"

"No." He finally choked out, and felt himself flailing. While trying to soothe her and prove to her she hadn't crossed any boundaries, he was giving away his hiding spot.

"Tell me, Bobby." She suddenly changed courses and her eyes softened. "Tell me. This isn't fair to either of us."

"Kailah," he tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but she lifted her palm and pressed it against his collar bone and all the air went out of him. He closed his mouth and stared at her, unwilling to believe she was learning so quickly how to steer him around and usher him toward her goal.

"You think I won't understand?" She asked quietly as if challenging him, and then her eyes widened and the softness was gone. "You think I get you too much? Does it scare you I'm in this far?"

He wanted to sag in relief and terror. It was half the horror in his life right now, knowing his actions were all part of motives Kailah could deduce if given the right amount of time. But he leaned on it; he could be himself without fear of having to explain. She encouraged him to just relax and talk to her, and in the week following her visit to his mother, she'd forced him to be happy like she was, just out of infectious and sporadic friendliness. He hated it, but she was luring him further and further in, and pretty soon his storm-weathered ship was going to crash up against the reef and all he'd have would be her and her siren song.

"Coward," Kailah pushed his collar bone and he felt himself touch the wall of the building, pressed against it. He rounded his shoulders and pursed his lips, but didn't defend himself. It was the most accurate accusation he'd received thus far, and he didn't want to fight and give her more fuel.

But, despite everything Goren thought he knew about women, she didn't slap him, start crying, or walk away. The three types of women he had encountered in his life, the angry, the battered, and the sensible, were not present. She became none of them. She stood, her palm pressed against his chest, and he made a noise, pushing her hand away.

She shook her head, but her eyes remained locked on his. He wanted the interrogation to be over, and nearly laughed when the though soared across his mind. She put pressure on. He could get inside the head and work his way out into reality, drawing the criminal with him, but Kailah, she took a different approach from the victim's side of the bench. She worked her way in, and it was excruciating feeling her drilling away at his skull and unearthing insecurity after insecurity.

"Did you do this to Eames, too? Drive her away?"

He felt his skull crack; she was inside, and she'd done it by touching on one of his sorer spots. He reeled, looking at her, halfway crazy from her pushing and pulling, and pulled her upper arm. She stumbled forward and he pulled his teeth back.

"You are aware Logan and Wheeler have been standing there for the past ten minutes?"

"You send me back to Portland and everyone knows something _you_ had a problem with is the reason. Why not head off the rumor mills and let them know first?" Kailah turned it around neatly, her voice devoid of all compassion.

He pushed her away from the wall of 1PP and tugged her upper arm away from the entrance where even more detectives were making their way in and out busily. Neither Logan nor Wheeler followed, but they didn't move from the doorway. They looked at each other, mouths agape, and hesitated, but moved a few steps closer to the garage where Goren had all but dragged Cairn.

"You stupid brute, you're hurting me!" Kailah struggled to free her arm. Goren just gritted his teeth and pulled her again, only loosening his hold when Kailah made a sound and lifted her arm, biting her lip. The bruise would probably circle her whole arm. He sighed; he was like a bull in a China shop. He had no idea when he was ruining a good thing.

"You," he let his tone become accusatory as he took his turn pushing her against the nearest wall. "You come in here, replacing my partner because _she_ couldn't take it. She wanted in so bad, she wanted to help me, and she ran away to make me realize I could keep my distance if I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to be alone, I wanted _someone_ to tell, and I wanted Eames back." He felt himself really making sense to Kailah, but her face remained impassive. "But _you,_" he continued, his tone morphing into a disgusted one, "come in and I want to tell you everything. I wanted to, and I've never wanted to in my life. You lured me in, you lure me still, and I want nothing more of the attachment with it, Kailah. I can't concentrate, I'm—" He cut himself off and shot out a breath through his nose angrily.

Kailah waited a long time, but the hands on her shoulders didn't release her. His face, turned to the side, was slowly turning pink from red, and as she watched, his breathing softened and then became deep and silent again. He had a majority of his weight on his hip as he balanced with her as a way to steady himself against the wall.

She steadied her hand and lifted it; Goren didn't seem to notice, but she knew he did. Very carefully she placed a soft hand on his stubbly cheek and forced him to look over at her, but his eyes remained closed. She couldn't move her shoulders or slip from under them; she was afraid he might bolt. But he hadn't already. He had given her more than enough to draw the right conclusion, and while a "course of appropriate action" seemed very uncertain, she didn't bother herself with ethics.

She slid her fingers around to the back of his neck and sifted her fingers through his hair. He stiffened at first, starting to draw away, and Kailah freed one shoulder. He waited, not willing to give her the control to do as she wanted, and when he opened his eyes a slit to see her face, he was pacified to see she had the softened eyes of understanding back. He relaxed and she applied a gentle pressure on the back of his neck. His hand fell off her shoulder and collapsed limp at his side as she pushed herself forward and caught his mouth in a kiss.

If Ross had walked in, if the Chief of D himself had waltzed around the corner, Goren couldn't have moved to save his life. He was frozen, not quite returning the embrace Kailah gave him, but completely unable to move away. He had surrendered to it, and was quite willing to bet if she drew away and came again, he wouldn't say no. But Kailah only drew away, taking his lip with her a brief second, and then released his neck and his mouth, her eyes observing the careful disbelief etched on his face. She provided no additional signs, and simply waited.

_If he's still afraid I'm luring him, there's not much else I can do._

Abruptly Goren's eyes flashed open and he stared at her, drinking her in without shame this time. She sensed his stare, but didn't watch. He knew there was some unspoken question now, and he was going to give an answer no matter what his next move was. So he awakened his unconscious arm and slipped it between her back and the wall and cautiously pressed his fingers into her hip. Kailah's head fell back and her eyes closed tighter. His other hand, still pressed tightly against the wall behind her shoulder, leapt away and tangled in her hair as she leaned into the arm holding her back and fell to one side.

"This is it?"

"I kind of made a big deal out of it." Goren defended in a soft voice.

Kailah smiled and then moved and rested her forehead on his. "Will you do me a favor and tell Ross we've worked it out? Tell him I don't need the transfer."

Goren nodded and closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to Kailah's cheek. He sighed, not entirely certain he was doing the right thing, but couldn't fight anymore. At least Eames would rest easier, he reasoned, knowing he wasn't shouldering the burden alone.


	11. Disillusion

_Author's Note: _Sorry for the super-long hiatus. I've been really busy with school lately and work...but there was also some writer's block and other factors. So, I'm taking suggestions as well as throwing this at all of you. Enjoy.

* * *

Ross glanced up as Goren entered and drew the door shut behind him. "Look, I'm sorry, Bobby, but she has a right to know why she's being—"

"I'd like to withdraw my request, Captain." He collected his hands behind his back and drew himself up to his full height. "Kailah and I had a talk and I'd like to work things out personally and leave the department out of it."

Ross regarded him a moment and then gestured. "Pull your collar down."

"Excuse me?" Goren frowned.

"Pull your collar down."

Goren smirked and loosened his tie. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and held the fabric an inch or so away from his neck to show the captain. "My mother used to do the same thing when I got home past curfew."

"Same reasons apply, Detective." Ross relaxed a little. "She isn't upset? No end-of-the-world things going on?"

"She knew how I was feeling, and she says she can keep it professional if I can. If my work and concentration don't improve, we'll proceed. If they get better with the peace of mind, I'd like to keep my partner." He swallowed and Ross shook his head. The man didn't appear to smile often, and now was not enough of a reason to show mirth or satisfaction.

"Get back to work, then, Goren. We've got a killer on the loose."

"Every day," Goren muttered as he turned and collected his hands in front of himself this time and turned the doorknob. "Oh, and Goren," Ross interrupted him as he muttered to himself. "If I find out you and Kailah have come to a romantic understanding, I'm not as friendly as Deakins. I'm not in love with the dream-team."

"If Kailah and I come to a romantic understanding, I'm sure we'll both understand the costs." Goren replied and smiled. "I'll let you know if we decide to throw our careers out the window."

As he stepped outside the office and closed the door behind him, he felt a weak tremor race through his hands. He stretched his fingers and looked up at Kailah as she breezed past Logan and Wheeler. She appeared to be ignoring Logan in particular, but didn't let her eyes touch Wheeler either. As she took her seat and pulled up a search engine, Goren collapsed into the seat across from her.

"Well?"

"Request withdrawn. He checked," Goren paused as he buttoned his shirt and tightened his tie, "my neck for hickeys."

"Can't say the man isn't perceptive." Kailah kicked him under the table. "Hey, where'd you leave the Parsons file?"

He started sifting through the organized chaos on his desk. She waited politely a moment and then started drumming her fingers on the desk. She clicked around on the computer and the Beatles' "Hey Bulldog" started blasting quietly.

"Here," he unearthed the file and Kailah stood up, peeling the pages back. "Mrs. Parsons was the late Mr. Benchley's employee. She might know something. It's almost lunch, right?"

He froze, and when his cheek started to tense, Kailah slid her eyes over to him and she reached and pushed her bag in his arms as she reached for her coat and shrugged it on. As she took her purse back, it was subtle, impressive really, she let her fingertips play across his palm and he quickly buried his hands in his pockets, a small smile dancing across his lips.

"My treat,"

"Yes it is." Kailah dipped her head, indicating he should grab his coat and get ready. "Tell Ross we'll be a while yet and I'll meet you in the car."

* * *

"Hello?" Eames didn't recognize the number registering on her phone, and it made her nervous. She was starting to get more calls from dealers and buyers, and she didn't want to have to do more shady deals alone. The man with the sticky fingers had set his sights on her and she was starting to do him a lot of favors to keep his infamously lecherous hands off her. The number was a prepaid cell phone with a familiar but uncertain area code. 

"Hello," a voice replied in a firm but ambiguous tone, and Eames nearly had a heart-attack; why Danny Ross had called her while she was doing her stint in Denver had to involve Bobby and some sort of interrogation gone haywire.

"Oh God!" She spat out before she even had time to imagine the worst-case scenario. "What's happened to him? Is he dead? Hospital? Do you need his insurance information—I can be there in six hours!"

Ross, savagely saying her first name, cut her off before she could squeak in a new breath to voice her worries. "As far as I know, he's perfectly fine. Physically."

"Oh God!" She began again.

"Three weeks ago he asked me to get him a new partner, and last week he withdrew that request. He spoke to her about something and they've reached some sort of agreement. Has he said anything to you?"

Alex's heartbeat raced, but started to slow. "We haven't spoken directly in quite a while. He didn't say anything then."

"Your partner's tardiness record is nearly perfect." Ross continued. "This is the third day he hasn't shown up before noon."

"Where's Kailah?" Alex blurted and quickly bit her thumb, hoping the anxious feeling in her stomach would go away soon. She had a feeling Ross would start saying something about the two of them falling apart, Kailah trying to hold them together but failing miserably, and then, her worst fear, Kailah running away and Goren left there in the ruins of another relationship with someone who might have cared. Not that Eames had run because she didn't care; she just cared too much. And he didn't care anymore that she cared, and at the end of the night, she just wanted to solve a murder with her cocky, gentlemanly partner and forget about him when he didn't need her. Kailah was perfect for the responsibility of catching what Eames couldn't, but now Alex's insecurities were bubbling up.

"When he does show up?" Alex's voice was unnaturally calm.

"He's usually halfway through doing something he could have done here, but he started it at his apartment…" Ross trailed off. "Unkempt, his usual self, really, but well-rested. Jittery. He just seems different, and I need to know if he—"

"When he put in that request, did he tell you why he was…I mean, I feel kind of…" Alex swallowed.

"The big goof has a crush on his little temp." Ross replied in a tired voice. "And she's been padding the walls of his little insane asylum since she arrived. They've done two undercover operations, and he's been glowing with her progress. It's almost gross."

She'd seen Goren glow over a successful duping, but hearing about it made her uneasy. "I'll call him. See if I can't weasel in out of him." She knew even if he told her he and Kailah were planning to elope she couldn't tell Ross anything, or rather wouldn't, but Ross let her go and sighed in relief to have someone else on the job.

As she hung up with Ross and covered her mouth, she dialed Goren's number, still having the digits locked in her head and in her heart, and closed her eyes.

Goren sat up in a daze as the phone on the bedside table rang shrilly. He panicked at first, noticing the time, and once again groaned, remembering Kailah's UV-blocking curtains, and reached, fumbling for his phone. He touched both and panicked anew, seeing the matching NYPD-issue phones.

"Uh-oh—" he murmured and Kailah sat up, her hair mussed and sticking up. She looked at the clock and cursed, jumping up and groping for something to throw on. "Open the other one," she suggested in a soft, gruff voice and cleared her throat. "My background is blue, yours is gray."

He flicked open the other phone and saw the blue background. Relieved, he opened the ringing phone and winced. "Goren."

"How come Ross just called me looking for his favorite punctual detective?" Eames demanded.

Goren winced. "I've been working on this case when I wake up and I lose track of time."

"Ever since you applied to have your partner exchanged, huh?" Eames' voice abruptly changed to a teasing tone and Goren leapt on the defensive. "Totally unrelated, thank you very much."

"You can't fool me, and you're not fooling him. Play this carefully, Goren." She chided and Goren turned, momentarily distracted as Kailah buttoned one of his shirts over her thin frame and wandered around to her closet, looking for something to wear. Her hair was still very messy and he felt his heart turn over for her.

"I don't know what you mean," he heard himself say and knew it was a giveaway.

"When I told you to let her in, I knew you'd have to like her, but you _know_ the rules. Don't screw this up for yourself—this is a good thing happening for you, you know that? If it's worth waiting for, it'll be—"

"My mom likes her." He interrupted suddenly and Eames quieted. "And she…she likes my mom. I don't see what's worth waiting for."

"Me," Alex's eyes suddenly swam and she felt petty and jealous, but she let them race down her cheeks as soon as they grew fat and wet enough. "You're waiting for me so I can have my partner back."

He opened his mouth, a calmness sweeping around him.

"Don't you dare tell me to back off, Bobby Goren." Alex heard her voice hitch and winced, knowing he could hear her tears now. "I'm happy for you if you…if you're what I think you are, but she's not worth your job."

"She is," he objected, feeling a little fuzzy despite his certain-sounding refutation. "But I'm sorry, Alex, did you think you could have me jump through another hoop for you?"

"I didn't want you to jump through my hoops!" She shrieked back. "I told you to accept attachment!"

"Now what, then?" He asked back calmly.

"Know it's there, and save it for when she's not employed with MCS." Alex replied and hitched a breath, sniffling gently. "For when she won't lose her job and reputation, and the same for you. For when I can come back and cover your big ass."

"We'll talk later; I'm late for work." He closed the phone and closed his eyes, tired again. He had never hung up on her, or given up on her, and there he just had. He knew if she rescued him, the bridge would be repaired and she could come back to an unchanged Bobby Goren, but Kailah was underneath the bridge, singing her siren song to him, and he was willing to pitch it all away and jump overboard into the river just to listen and cling to her tailfin. He wanted all of it; his partner, his lover, his job…

Kailah bit her lip and held up a shirt he'd left there a couple of weekends ago. "It doesn't really match your tie, but at least you won't be wearing the same outfit two days in a row."

He seized her wrist and yanked her into his lap, kissing her cheeks and forehead viciously. She accepted the rough affection and sank into his arms like a rag-doll. After a brief moment suffocated in his hug, he released her and stood up, gathering his clothes. He'd nearly fallen there, but he'd climbed back onto the bridge and stood, Alex on the other side, and Kailah underneath.

* * *

Ross watched his star detectives at their desks. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed professionally. Goren hovered over Cairn's shoulder like an overprotective big brother and pointed out things in the paperwork and on her computer screen. When Kailah perched on the corner of Goren's desk, he kept his nose buried in his books and nodded. When Ross checked on them, Goren reported feeling more in control than usual and his concentration was virtually invincible.

As if his suspicions weren't already on high alert, the two were scheduled for a flight to Montana to chase an important lead. An overnight trip, he'd been told. Hotel rooms were doled out, and flights paid for. The only thing left was the rental car. Ross had been putting it off, trying to find out how many hotel rooms had been rented on what floors, in what hotels, and exactly where this suspect had gone.

Cairn suddenly appeared in front of Ross and held up a photograph of a body in the morgue. "Felicia Donnelly."

"So this Mark Riesgo is the only lead left?" Ross heard himself ask quietly.

"Only one." Kailah agreed and lowered her arm, looking at Donnelly's photo sympathetically. "Cyanide poisoning."

"What about the profile?"

"Bobby seems to think he has a female accomplice, but I'm not so sure. Maybe a softie of a guy, but I can't see the whole 'woman under fire' idea working here. The guy lives a cushy, nice lifestyle. No reason his girl would feel the need to oblige his every fancy." Kailah blew bangs out of her face and tucked stray hair behind her ears.

Ross's eyes flashed over to her and then away. "New earrings, detective?"

"Yeah, thanks." She flicked the corner of the morgue photo and pointed over her shoulder to Goren. "I should help him."

Ross nodded and watched her walk back over to her partner and lean over his shoulder to look at the recent information obtained. Gritting his teeth, Ross simply shook his head. He almost didn't want to catch them.

Eames had never called him back regarding the recent tardiness problems with her partner, and that simply piled on the suspicion for him. They'd probably had an argument—he would never find out what Eames had found out. Sighing unhappily, he watched curiously as Kailah muttered something and Goren's face lit up and he laughed.

Smirks had crossed Goren's face before, and in the middle of intense interrogations he'd pulled this card before, but a genuine laugh was rare. It was, as far as Ross could tell, unprofessional to Goren. His laughter, not necessarily boisterous or obnoxious, still raised a few eyebrows. And Kailah, stifling a snicker, settled back in her seat with a small amount of arrogance. Goren threw a pen at her.

* * *

Kailah hated drawing her gun. She knew the looming figure in front of her had her covered, but she hated the dead silence as she withdrew the safety and placed her fingers around the trigger. She had locked muscles and tense wrists. She knew the minute a gun was turned on her, she'd only have to readjust her arms and let her fingers relax and squeeze a little. She'd been in the top three shooters in her academy; Goren had never fired his weapon. He was a negotiator. His partner had been the one without words, and so Kailah had her shoes to fill even though she preferred being bait, taking bait, and snaring her perps the intellectual way.

Her radio crackled. "Shots fired, correct, Detective?"

"No authorization available to us; we are New York detectives and we need some backup, please." Kailah replied calmly into her radio. "Two perps, one male, one female, both with dark hair. Located somewhere in a parking garage on Eastman Road—"

"Where are you, Detective?" The Dispatch in Burton, Montana, managed to interrupt her radio signal and Kailah grinned.

"Second story of the parking level, east stairwell."

Goren turned. "It's clear, let's move. Do we have clearance?"

"Shots fired, please." Kailah recited into the radio. "Clearance and authorization at the ready?"

"Backup is on the way—full support of the mayor and police force, Detectives. Fire as necessary."

"This is our collar," Kailah reminded her quietly and then turned off her radio and nodded, slipping along the near wall with Goren just in front of her. It wasn't long before her heart was pounding and her legs were shaking, but she felt it as if watching a really good movie containing a character with whom she related intimately. She felt it because she sympathized with it, but nothing more. As she ran between cars and SUVs, she panicked for a moment, picturing the west stairwells and the elevators probably making it a clean getaway for Riesgo and his female accomplice.

Goren turned and pressed himself flat against the corner. His eyes were sleepy all the sudden and Kailah reloaded the safety onto her gun and pressed her elbow into his gut.

"Goren?" She called out in a soft but authoritative voice. She waited a few moments and paced around Goren's feet and then stopped and sighed. "God damnit—"

Soft footsteps made their way toward them and Goren, tensing and squeezing the handle of his piece, gave her a lingering look of mild hatred before shoving her gun back into her hands. The woman, holding a double-barrel shotgun, burst around the corner first and dropped her weapon in surprise. It discharged as it hit the floor and Kailah, jumping behind her human shield, gasped as a burning pain ripped into her shoulder. She managed to lift her left arm, still holding her piece, and unlocked the safety. As the man, knowing now it was an ambush, lifted his pistol to fire at Goren close-range, she shot. The bullet grazed Goren's shoulder because she was not a typical left-hander when shooting, but buried in the man's right shoulder and he went down hard, dropping his weapon. The girl passed out and slumped over his spread-eagled arm.

Sirens outside grew louder and Kailah, feeling blood spurt up between the fingertips she had clenched over her wounded shoulder, looked grouchily at the wound and was suddenly sick to find the shotgun had fired pellets, not just a large shell. She should have known, she lamented. She felt one in her neck now, and imagined them peppered throughout her body letting her chest fill with blood and her jugular pump all of the other blood out through her neck.

Her shoulder, her neck, and her upper arm were each bubbling with blood and she felt the adrenaline get the best of her, pumping away through all her damaged capillaries. She sat heavily against the wall as Goren holstered his piece and bent over her.

"Hey, don't you pass out on me." He demanded and Kailah nearly giggled; he didn't sound upset, or scared, or even guilty. Just professional.

"I'm losing a lot of blood. If they have some in the ambulance, I'll wake right back up. Right as rain, right? Right, right, right…" She tried flexing her fingers and felt the shoulder wound light up fresh and she hissed as Goren stripped off his tie and made a tourniquet for the wound on the underside of her upper arm. What didn't make it to her arm anymore poured out of her neck with renewed vigor. The smell was nauseating, and Kailah couldn't help but ask, "Is he dead, Bobby? Did I kill him leftie?"

"He's bleeding out, but you'll both be fine, okay? You'll both be fine." Behind him, Burton's finest appeared, holstered their weapons, and began to manhandle the stirring woman on the floor into handcuffs and out the door. Meanwhile two officers heaved the injured criminal up and carried him toward the exit elevators. Kailah felt woozy, but knew she had been lifted too. She looked at Bobby, who had taken her alone, and smiled when he placed her on a waiting gurney.

She smiled at the nurse who set up a blood IV and pressed towels on her bleeding wounds.

She smiled at her doctor as he assured her everything would be all right. She knew it would all be right as rain when she woke up, it was just until then, when they were patching up pipes and seeing the damage. She knew the sight of her bruised, torn up body in the morning would be worrisome. If she worried at all, however, she worried for Bobby. He had held it all inside quite fantastically, but she knew he would need something now. Anything, really, and she was here, about to drop under and get her battered body fixed. How selfish.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi, Alex." Bobby sounded sheepish.

She took a moment to predict the reasons for this tone in his voice, and found the possibilities too immense. Simply releasing a held breath, she forced a smile. "Hi, Bobby. What's happening?"

"I'm at St. Catherine's in Montana waiting for Kailah to come out of surgery." He replied and she could tell from the tightness in his voice he was trying to ground himself through her and she resisted at first, but found that selfish and allowed herself to reach out.

"What happened?"

"A perp dropped her shotgun and it discharged—shot three pellets into her." His answer was quiet, sullen, and bittersweet. Alex could feel his hatred toward the situation and his actions in it, but also knew he was staving off guilt until he knew she was all right.

"And?" Alex forced a dead tone.

"And I don't know." Goren admitted. "Five and a half hours for you to drive here."

Alex snorted. "And why would I drive all the way up to Montana?"

"Because I need you now, Alex. Kailah can't be the one to tell me she's going to be all right, that needs to be you. And I know you're always trying to help, even when we fight, okay? I know." He sounded close to tears, but she knew it was just desperation speaking. "So you have my best interests at heart, fine, I can deal with that. No one's ever been so constant for me, Eames, no one. It was against my better judgment to even take a liking to Kailah let alone this, so would you please just come?"

"If I catch a red eye, I can be there in two hours." Alex sighed and lifted her finger, picturing Goren's triumphant smile. "But don't you _ever_ suggest I ask you to jump through hoops again." Without waiting for his reply, she hung up and pinched the bridge of her nose.


End file.
